Bleeding Realms
by XBolt51
Summary: Have the realms truly found peace? The Lions of Lannister have begun to fight with the Wolves of Stark. The Stags of Baratheon try to maintain their kingdom. And halfway through the world, a bull tries to bring back the dragon.
1. Chapter 1

**282 AC**

**Denys**

He could not believe his father. Moments after his beloved wife had died birthing his son Clifford, he is asked to marry once again. "I will not have it!" Denys Arryn cried out to his father, Jon. With his cousin Elbert having barely escaped King's Landing alongside Ethan Glover, Hoster Tully and his father insisted that he take Lady Lysa Tully as his wife. "We cannot do that. Elbert is to be part of the vanguard." his father told him. He had to admit Elbert was clever in convincing that he was a mere squire worth nothing in posing as his cousin Jasper Waynwood. Putting the two of them close together, they could almost be twins with the exception of the eyes: Jasper's were a dull brown whereas Elbert's were a resplendent sky blue. Still, he did feel bad for his cousin: he was a simple lad but a sweet lad nonetheless.

Frankly, Jon could somewhat understand his predicament. He could see just how much he loved his wife Ursula Elesham, much like he loved his wife Rowena Royce. He still remembered the vow he made that he would never love another woman like her. It didn't matter that she hailed from a poor branch of House Royce, she was his and he was hers until her death shortly after the birth of his beloved son; the Darling of the Vale as he was called throughout his life.

Denys had gone through with the ceremony with some reluctance. He had to admit that his new wife was rather pretty with her resplendent red hair. He knew his friend Ned Stark wasn't looking forward to this as much as he was. They had been close as brothers alongside Robert Baratheon. He, Ned, Robert and his father had looked and felt like one big happy family. "You ready for this, Ned?" Denys asked his "brother". "I would be, if it were Ashara instead." Ned said solemnly. Denys understood this. He saw the way the both of them looked at one another at Harrenhal. Ned didn't want her beauty or maidenhead like every other nobleman or knight; he wanted and won her heart. "I know my friend. The pain of having to ... discard her like that is something I face similarly." Denys replied. Ned still held his solemn face and then said, "I'm sorry. For what happened to Ursula. She was a good woman." "Aye, she was. I named the boy Clifford, after her father. It was what she wanted." Denys replied. Soon after, he wedded and bedded Lady Lysa Tully and his brother wedded and bedded his brother's former betrothed.

The faces had begun to haunt him. The blood dripping from each one of the soldiers like pounding waterfalls or rain. Wearing the falcon helm his father had made gave him some sort of peace. So he wouldn't have to completely see them dropping like flies.

**283 AC**

**Stannis**

Stannis went manic when she was kidnapped by the Kingswood Brotherhood and now his wife could die from this siege. Jeyne Swann was the only person in this world who could make the unyielding and hard man smile. The one person who could remind him that his duty to her could also mean love. The woman who had reaffirmed his faith in the Seven. Stannis knew from the moment that she had come to Storm's End to serve as a lady in waiting for his mother. Her smile, her dark raven hair and brown eyes had come to look withered. _You had better win this Rebellion, Robert_ Stannis thought as he held his wife's hand.

"Jeyne. Please stay with me. What will I tell our children. Little Dyanna and sweet Jena? And what of Robard and Armond? They're just babes at breast! They need you! I ..." Stannis exclaimed. He knew his pretty words would not break her fever. The siege had taken its toll on everybody. Not even the jovial Renly could help with his numerous stories to entertain the people. "My love." Jeyne uttered. Stannis jumped as he heard his wife talk. "What? What is it?" Stannis asked. "Tell them. Tell the children. Tell them I love them so much. Promise me you will love them as much as I" Jeyne said wearily. "Don't say that, Jeyne. Please don't say that!" Stannis exclaimed, fighting the urge to cry. The tears had already begun to form at the bast of his eyes and he refused to let them leave. "Promise me." Jeyne cried. He stared at his bleakly. "I promise you." Stannis said. The words seemed to brought her some comfort and her restless eyes looked peaceful. As she laid there, his sons had begun to wail loudly, as if they knew she was gone. His three-year old daughter did her best to calm down her brothers. Stannis entered the room and gently tucked Robard unto his arms. "I've got you. I'll always be here, my boys. My boys." Stannis said.

Just as he seemed to not only calm his children but his mind as well, someone had approached Storm's End. Eddard Stark and Denys Arryn among others lifting the siege. "Lord Stannis" "Lord Denys" the two lords greeted one another. "Sorry we could not arrive earlier. Your brother, the King, is expecting you to sail off to Dragonstone." Ned explained. The King. His brother was now King of Westeros. How ironic that he became the king by crushing the Targaryen dynasty when their grandmother was a Targaryen. "What does my brother want at Dragonstone?" Stannis asked. "He trusts you with further ending the Targaryen dynasty. Queen Rhaella, Prince Viserys and her newborn daughter are there. King Robert insists on the deaths of the ... dragonspawn." Denys grimaced. Stannis did not even give a reply about this. He understood the disgust and contempt in Ned Stark's and Denys Arryn's voices. Ordering the deaths of young children. This war had started due to Rhaegar Targaryen taking Lyanna Stark and raping her according to his brother. War takes much away from even the best of men, but he did not think his brother could sink so low. "I will need time in assembling my fleet." Stannis replied.

**Ned**

The venture to Dorne was rather tiresome. Ethan Glover, his brother's squire, was restless and desperately wanted to avenge his brother as much as he did. Martyn desperately wanted to see his son, Jory. Buckets was desperate and anxious for a fight. Mark said absolutely nothing. Howland was quite anxious as Denys.

As they came to the Tower of Joy, they saw the three Kingsguard; Lord Commander Gerold Hightower "The White Bull", Ser Arthur Dayne "The Sword of the Morning" and Ser Oswell Whent. "I looked for you on the Trident," Ned said to them.

"We were not there," Ser Gerold answered.

"Woe to the Usurper if we had been," said Ser Oswell.

"When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were."

"Far away," Ser Gerold said, "or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells."

"I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege," Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them."

"Our knees do not bend easily," said Ser Arthur Dayne.

"Ser Willem Darry has fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him."

"Ser Willem is a good man and true," said Ser Oswell. "But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out. "The Kingsguard does not flee."

"Then or now," said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.

"We swore a vow," explained old Ser Gerold.

Ned's wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three.

"And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light. "No," Ned said with sadness in his voice. "Now it ends."

The clash of the their swords was like a song. Ice and Dawn. Buckets was the first one to perish at the hands of the White Bull; his eagerness for battle had been his folly. Oswell Whent had struck down Martyn and Mark but he himself was killed by Ethan. The boy's victory did not last though; he was immediately killed by the White Bull. The White Bull and the Darling of the Vale's swords clashed fiercely. The valeman surely proved his skill in this battle, as he brought down the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Dawn and Ice continued to hack and try to tear apart one another. Arthur's next swing was a vicious one; knocking off Ice from his hands. Just as he was about to drive the pale sword into his body, the Sword of the Morning began to spurt out blood. Howland Reed had struck down the Kingsguard with a spear to his back.

Before Ned could process all of it, he realized that his beloved sister was still inside the accursed tower. He noticed a small glimmering object around Arthur Dayne's armor; a key. As he made his way inside, he began to imagine and fear the worst. He then came across a door and opened it, immediately fearing the worst. "Ned." Lyanna breathed out in such a weak and frail voice. "Lyanna" he harshly whispered and his eyes filling themselves with tears of joy. But a closer look at his sister, the tears of joy quickly became those of sadness. Lyanna was desperately clutching a small bundle of blankets.

"Ned. Yo-you have to take him. Take care of him, p-please." Lyanna said as she began to have a coughing fit. "What did he do to you, Lya?" Ned asked as he furrowed his brow. He then leaned closer, placing a firm hand on her clammy forehead. "I'm so so-sorry I left. I-I broke my promise." Lyanna gasped out. Before Ned could respond, she gasped out, "I-I loved ... him, N-Ned." Ned then realized it. It was all a folly, all for naught. He looked inside the bundle and saw a whimpering baby boy. "Rhaegar?" "Promise me. Promise me you'll t-take care of him. Don't t-tell him. Never tell him." Lyanna said, struggling to speak. "Lya, I ..." "Promise me, Ned!" Lyanna coughed out furiously. Lyanna and the baby began to whimper. "Gods. Brandon and father. They must hate me. I'll burn in each in every one of the Seven Hells." Lyanna faintly whispered. "No. Don't say that. You will see them again. Brandon, father and mother." Ned said to reassure her. She was just a girl; a sweet innocent girl. "Keep ... Jon safe. Promise me you'll keep Jon safe?" Lyanna said, desperately clinging on to her brother's hand with what little strength she had. "I promise you, Lya" Ned said. "Promise me, Ned" her voice fading and her eyes now closed.

Tears ran down the quiet wolf's face. His beloved sister's face was now as pale as fresh winter snow. He quickly knelt down and gave his now dead sister a light kiss on her forehead. Jon had begun to scream and cry as wildly as a wolf. Ned carefully removed the boy from Lyanna's now lifeless arms. As he looked at the boy, he quickly thanked the gods. He had a small tuft of dark brown hair and cool grey eyes. He looked very much a Stark. As he cooed at the boy to calm him, he quickly gave him a small smile: Lyanna's smile.

"Ned?" said the voices of Howland Reed and Denys Arryn creeping up about him. "The boy?" Howland asked. "The boy's name is Jon. He's ... my bastard." Ned said. Denys had a look of disapproval while Howland quietly prayed over Lyanna's dead body. "No one can know. No one." he told them both. Denys and Howland nodded in agreement.

**Benjen**

The new maester Luwin had come and greeted the Night's Watchmen. As he came to his brother's chambers, he heard the wail of very loud babies. _The Hero of Winterfell, the Quiet Wolf_, he thought to himself. As he asked the guard to open the door to see his brother, he heard muffled voices.

" - will most certainly not share my son's chambers or anything with that mongrel!"  
"Catelyn, pleas - "  
"He is not my own and I won't treat him like it at all!"  
"He's a babe! He has no other family. I was the one who broke your trust, an - "  
"You remind be by bringing this cur before me!"

Suddenly, the guard had knocked on the door and it opened to two rather tired faces. "My lord, your brother Benjen requests an audience with you." the guard said. Ned looked at his younger brother and brought him into a warm embrace. Gods, how he missed this. It was as clear as day that the war had taken much from his brother. His face was practically telling him a story; a story he wants to hear from his brother. Ned told him about the war: the victories and defeats. The Demon of the Trident. How everyone gathered into one army under the flopping silver trout, the ascended blue falcon, the charging black stag and the snarling grey direwolf. How the realm had been drawn in blood. And finally how his sister died. "I brought back her bones. She deserved to be buried with her family; our family." Ben remembered his sister: the wild and free-spirited girl who was considered a centaur due to her skill in riding. His favorite sibling. "D-did she ... suffer?" Benjen asked. "No. A fever had taken her. She went peacefully."

Ben and Ned then let small tears pass through their faces as they thought of their sister. "You have much to celebrate though. A victory in the south. The Mad King dead and gone, and Robert sits in his stead. The realms are in peace and you have a beautiful wife and son" Ben said to cheer themselves up. As he said this, his mind drifted to what Ned had said, "I was the one who broke your trust". There's something about the child he thought, attempting to make some sense out of it. "What's happening, Ned?" he asked.

"You ought to know. When I returned from the South, I came back with ... my ... son. My ... bastard." Ned said, clearly struggling to say the words. Ben needed no more than to understand but could not. Out of all of the three of them, he expected Brandon to sire a bastard or two. Brandon could have sired at least a hundred bastards. "Ned ..." Ben began to say but was interrupted by Ned. "We were at war, Benjen! Men I knew, who grew up with us, dropped dead like flies. Villages burned to a crisp by the Mad King's men. Women and children crying. For almost a year, i smelt nothing but smoke and blood! If all Seven Hells existed, I was living in them! I was scared, scared of never seeing my home again, Catelyn, my own son ..." Ned breathlessly uttered, desperately attempting to justify the act.

"Who was she?" he asked. "It... Doesn't matter, Ben. Jon's place is here with me. He's my responsibility" Ned said. Jon, a good Northern name. Probably named after Jon Arryn, he thought. A northern bastard. Forever a Snow, he would never be a true Stark. He then begun to imagine the child, always being an outsider no matter what. His true-born brother would be Lord of Winterfell and have the greatest luxuries, and the other would receive nothing but scorn and could never truly call Winterfell his home. "Why did you leave? Why did you join the Night's Watch?" Ned suddenly asked him. "The Starks have always manned the Wall. I ... was a third son, few opportunities I'd have." Ben said, like a rehearsed speech. "That's not true. Father had made arrangements to betroth you to Lady Jonelle Dustin." Ned explained. "Now tell me truthfully. Why'd you join the Watch?" Ned asked. Ben then snapped. "You're not the only one who lost things. Father gone, Brandon dead. Lyanna was gone. I barely even knew our mother! You went off playing the faithful soldier, and I wondered every day whether you had left me too! I can't even call Wintefell home without imagining everyone's ghosts! When I heard you were coming back, taking the black was the only thing that ... that brought me peace of mind." Ben said. Ned said nothing but held his brother tightly in his arms.

As the morning came, his mind drifted off to Ned's bastard. He thought being a third son was terrible, and perhaps that was selfish, but being born a bastard was worse. He could already imagine the looks of disdain the boy would see. Trying to understand why his siblings are Starks and he a Snow. As he headed into the Godswood, he heard someone. It was Ned, holding baby Jon and their ancestral sword, Ice, on the ground. He was muttering a prayer." ... let them grow up close as brothers, with only love between them, and let my lady wife find it in her heart to forgive. May he have the love his mother bore for him, and may she watch over him." It became clear that this woman was, in fact, a very special woman. Suddenly, it became quite clear to him. Like a flame on a candle.

"Who was his mother, Ned?" Benjen blatantly and loudly asked, interrupting his brother. He ignored all the courtesies that should be bestowed upon the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, for he was still his brother Ned Stark. And his brother owed him an explanation. Ned's face quickly transformed from a confused one to an exasperated one. "I told you it doesn't matter. Jon is my - " "Your son? It's a great crime to lie in the godswood, y'know." Ned clutched Jon tightly around his arms now. Through gritted teeth, he said "He is my blood. That's what matters." But Benjen did not relent. For what his brother was telling him was simply confirming his realization. "Your blood is the same blood that courses through my veins. As it did through father, and Brandon. And Lyanna's" Benjen said with a heavy sigh.

Ned's face was as white as the old weirwood before them. His cold grey eyes stared deeply at his own. "I-I watched her die. Her bed was soaked in blood. Lya was so weak, she looked as pale and broken like a corpse. Robert would have called for his death, Ben. Like little Rhaenys and baby Aegon were butchered like livestock. Jon would be a twice insult to him: a child born from the woman he loved and a child born with dragon's blood. She asked me to take him, to protect him from Robert. She'd knew that Robert would hunt down and kill him. She made me promise to protect Jon. She made me promise ..." Ned said, his bottom lip quivering and his eyes becoming red. Benjen then thought back to the handsome and gallant Prince Rhaegar who crowned his sister Queen of Love and Beauty. Not only did the dragon prince dishonor her and lead her to her grave, but also left her with a burden she could not bear, even in death.

Benjen then looked at the boy. Little Jon let out a happy squeal of delight and tried to grab at Benjen's long hair. The brother's laughed at this. He may have some of Lyanna's spirit within him. "He looks more like her than him" Benjen said solemnly. "I thank the Gods for that each and every day." Ned said. "I heard about Lady Ashara. I'm sorry, Ned. I know how much you loved her." Benjen said. "I did. And all the more reason I did not dissuade my men from believing Ashara is his mother." "May I hold him?" Benjen asked. Ned handed him the baby and instructed him on how to hold him. Jon simply smiled at him and stared at him with his eyes as grey as steel.

"He has her smile"  
"That he does"  
"Who else knows about Jon?" Benjen asked. "Howland Reed and Denys Arryn. And now, you." Ned explained. "Are you certain that they will not tell anyone?" Benjen asked, clearly worried about Jon's safety. "They swore to never tell. Denys was like a brother, I know he won't. Howland loved her like you and I did. No one else can know, Ben" Ned said. "What about Catelyn? Are you going to continue with this farce in front of her?" Benjen asked. "No one else can know. It was already risky when both of them learned about it. No one else can know. No one, Ben!" Ned declared. As Ben nodded, they failed to notice a pair of eyes staring at them both. Bright blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**298 AC**

**Stannis **

How he wanted to hate Robert. Because of his accursed rebellion, he lost his beloved wife. It didn't matter to him about the next marriage. He did marry the Florent girl to appease the Reach and his brother, to remove any animosity. Robert even let him pick his own lovely bride. Delena Florent was a very pretty woman with soft brown curls and curves, he didn't even mind her fairly sharp nose and large ears, but he could barely feel anything for her as he did with Jeyne. He thought that all his children felt as if he were insulting her. But Robert had further insulted him on his wedding when he decided to spoil Lady Selyse. And the following day, he had simply laughed it off and felt disgusted that he had "fucked the ugly Florent bitch". Nevertheless, Delena Florent had been a good wife and a wonderful mother to his children.

Years had passed, and he tried to show the children how much he loved them but it pained him to do so. So much of their mother was in them: Armond had her smile and laugh and Jena was her spitting image but with dark sapphire eyes. There was a sense of joy when she wrote to him that she married Ser Galladon of Tarth and gave birth to a son: Vorian. Named after one of the greatest knights of Dorne. She always loved the tales of knights and their heroics but he knew there was little truth to them. Robard was his pride and joy and it pained him when Robert sent him away to Highgarden to further pacify relations with the Reach. He hated his brother for selling off his own son to the Lannister's with roses. There was great joy when he came back. Robard's hair was long, dark and wavy, his eyes as blue as the sea and appeared like the Warrior incarnate. His time there was well spent, having learned to use many weapons under Randyll Tarly's tutelage. He'd been called the Strong Stag due to his prowess as a knight. He learned from Lord Hightower how to sail as well as make music, and he was often seen playing the harp or flute. A headstrong boy who understood what his duty was. He swung the valyrian steel greatsword of House Baratheon, Defiance, with such power along with the famed Valyrian steel warhammer Godsgrief. But what had gotten under his skin was the nerve Mace Tyrell had to ask for a betrothal between his daughter Margaery and Robard.

Armond had brought him a certain deal of shame. Loud and boisterous as his own brothers. He was to be betrothed to Lord Yohn Royce's youngest daughter but ran off to marry Lady Alynne Connington. He didn't do it to spite him but because he loved her. Stannis further sympathized with his son when she ultimately died giving birth to, miraculously, three healthy boys: Rolland, Willam and Axell. His blue eyes once filled with life, now became as cold as ice. He told his father that he could not bear to look at his sons without feeling shame for what he had done to slight him. Armond believed that the Gods took away his beloved Alynne as payback for slighting Lord Royce. He spent most of his time training so he may become a Kingsguard.

His children with Lady Delena brought him some joy. Daven was a quiet and solemn boy who often kept to himself but was good friends with the Onion Knight's sons as well as his daughter, Shireen. Shireen was a rather comely and bookish girl. Always read everything and was as smart as Robard in terms of politics. Little Pearse was only six and often ran everywhere, exploring everything, turning over every rock and stone. The only thing that gave him piece of mind was that his cousins were his age, so he had some playmates.

With Jon Arryn's investigation and his eventual death, Stannis realized that Cersei's firstborn child would inherit the Iron Throne. It wouldn't be in incapable hands though. Gendry was as handsome as Robert but more politically astute, and he definitely inherited his own will of iron. The boy was so stubborn that Robert insinuated that he had lain with his wife. But he knew Cersei well enough to know that she may eliminate the child and place the bastard Joffrey on the Iron Throne.

Maester Crassen entered his chambers to address the issue of the Priestess of R'hllor that came. Instead, he noticed the sad face of Stannis Baratheon; a face he was barely familiar with. "I see you miss your son, my lord" the maester suggested, as he could see it in Stannis's solemn face

"Why did they have to go? They ought to be here." Stannis replied in a scowl  
"Your brother, His Grace commanded it"  
"So they can strike a friendship with Ned Stark's boy"  
"There is no harm in forming an alliance with the Starks"  
"Robard has grown to be friends with Lord Mace's crippled heir"  
"It's no harm in him having other friends"  
"It's one of Robert's wish fulfillments; he wants to unite House Baratheon and House Stark together, along with securing a good match for Robard"  
"The prince has sixteen name-days pass and has not wed yet"  
"It's difficult to find a suitable match which will benefit House Baratheon"  
"Negotiations with House Tyrell will benefit"  
"That man starved me for a year, I will not grant him my son to use as a pawn in his games"  
"My lord, Robard needs to marry soon; you and the Lady Delena cannot protect him from duty"  
"You're right….Robard will be willing to do his duty but the game will tear him apart"  
"You overestimate your son, my lord. His fostering in Highgarden would have given him lessons on how to play the game"  
"Robard is my first-born son. My pride and joy. I don't want to lose my boy."

**297 AC**

**Cersei**

As they went down the King's Road, she looked at her son and began to fondly remember the day she birthed him. She felt nothing but pain and agony trying to birth her firstborn. "Push harder your grace the babe is almost here" said Maester. One final push of pain and hope she let out. "Congratulations your grace a healthy baby boy." "Hand him here Maester I want to see my son." She reached for her baby boy and looked down at his face and saw Robert Baratheon in his face. She wanted to hate the boy, she wanted to kill him for being spawned from him. But in that moment looking into her son's eyes she didn't give a damn that his father, this was her boy and she loved him with all of her heart. That small red-cheeked black-haired and blue-eyed boy smiled at her. He is no golden stag, he is my black lion, she thought to herself. "Cersei? Are you alright, sister?" asked Jaime. "Yes, everyone leave me and my brother alone." They all walked out of the room obeying her command. "Look at him Jaime, my little lion cub." she said, holding out her baby with a sense of happiness and pride."You mean golden stag, sister. He's a Baratheon though and though, no one can deny it." "He can be your child, Jaime. Love him like he is your son, protect him, guide him, and die for him like he is your son." She looked into her brother's eyes her eyes and he nodded yes. She did not wait for Robert to come back and wait for Robert to name her son, Jaime had already chosen the name Gendry for him; after his favorite uncle Gerry and their aunt Genna. Robert came back from his hunting trip bringing her back a lion's pelt. "I knew we'd have a boy first. And look at his eyes just like mine." Robert said as he eyed his new baby boy. "His name is Gendry. Gendry of Houses Lannister and Baratheon." Cersei told him. "Gendry will be his name a proud name of the Stormlands and he will be the greatest Baratheon that ever lived." Robert said happily.

Eventually, she had another lion cub, this time with her other half: Joffrey. Eventually, she had the twins, Myrcella and Tommen. As they grew older though, it became more and more evident that Joffrey and Gendry were as different as fire and ice. Whereas Gendry had amazing strength , a will of iron (which he inherited from Stannis) and fought head on, Joffrey had a very low sense of cunning and ran away from fights, mostly because he had been the cause of them. Gendry knew the difference between right and wrong but Joffrey did not see anything wrong in anything he did, especially when he cut open the pregnant cat to see the unborn kittens. Gendry loved his younger brother and sister, Tommen and Myrcella, whereas Joffrey did not care for them in the slightest and enjoyed tormenting them. Gendry was kind and friendly to nearly anyone and everyone, even her disgusting brother Tyrion. Joffrey made a mockery of anyone who went near him and sneered at the fact that his brother was friendly with the common folk. Gendry knew about labor and enjoyed spending time in the forgery making his own weapons, that the other royals dubbed him the Blacksmith Prince. What was very clear was just how much they hated one another.

Growing up in the keep, he did not have a lot of friends except his cousins from Stannis and Jon Arryn's grandsons. Gendry learned from the best warriors in the kingdom, but preferred learning from his Uncle Jaime who trained him constantly on using a sword. Gendry was truly the pride of both House Baratheon and Lannister, but it would be this pride that would bring Gendry and the realm to war.

"We would have been there two bloody weeks ago if it wasn't for that damn carriage and woman!" Robert yelled out. Robard and Gendry couldn't help but agree. The amount of times they had to stop so his mother could enjoy a meal or having to stop through the night to stay at an inn was frustrating. Not only that but having the royal carriage meant that instead of their horses jogging towards Winterfell, they were walking. "It shouldn't be too much farther could it?" Armond questioned his uncle hopefully."I'm not sure boy." Robert replied gruffly, "It has been so long since I have been up here in the north that I have forgotten the roads. I'll tell you what if I am not there by the end of the day; I swear I will burn that carriage down!" Robert laughed. "Shall we ride on ahead, father?" Gendry asked. Robert laughed loudly in delight at the suggestion, "I'd love nothing more than to shrug off this boredom and feel the cold wind on my face once again." The King turned back to his Kingsguard and told them, "Boros, Meryn... My son and nephews and I are riding ahead and you are to remain here and help guard that shitty carriage!" "Yes, your Grace." They both Baratheon's and Denys' Arryn's boys eagerly took off down the road and even their horses seemed delighted to be able to run. "This road looks familiar!" King Robert roared in enjoyment. They could see that the path went up a large hill a few leagues away. "I remember that hill! When we get to the top we will be able to see Winterfell!" "Shall we have a race to see who'll get there faster?" Robard suggested. Raymont and Osbert Arryn grinned excitedly. "I understand if you don't want to. It would be hard for your horse to keep up with mine since he is carrying around your weight." Daven smirked. "You cheeky brats!" Robert laughed good naturally, "I'll show there is still some life in me yet!"Unfortunately for them all, they didn't take into account that Robert's horse was bigger and stronger than their own and Robert made sure he knew it when he got to the top of the hill before all of them. Robert's laughter immediately died when he took sight of the Winterfell and Gendry could understand why it caught his father's attention so suddenly. He found it hard to find the words to describe the sight of Winterfell. Kings Landing was a lot bigger and brighter than Winterfell but Gendry felt that you would have better luck breaking through Kings Landing than Winterfell.

**Robb**

Robb didn't pay much attention to all the banner men and instead he focused on the members of the royal family and the Kingsguard. The first to enter, along with a member of the Kingsguard and his sworn shield, was the golden haired Crowned Prince, Joffrey Baratheon. His sworn shield was Sandor Clegane, a large and powerful warrior with a hideously burnt face. Robb glanced over the Crowned Prince and he judged him harshly. He couldn't believe that the Crowned Prince was someone that looked so thin and weak and Robb didn't like that look that he gave to his sister, Sansa. But judging from the look on her face, she was very interested in him. Robb resisted the urge to scoff when he notice that Joffrey wore red and golden clothing and the arms on his sugar coat were the symbol of both a Stag and a Lion. He was the heir to Robert Baratheon, and yet he wore the symbol and colors of the Lannisters as if they were equal standing to the Baratheons. After the Crowned Prince and his guards entered the courtyard, more riders entered. A tall black-haired boy with broad shoulders removed his bull's head helm, while the others also had midnight black hair and strong frames as well. Robb immediately thought that this boy looked more fitting to be the Crowned Prince.

Robb immediately realized that he was King Robert's firstborn son and heir to the throne, Gendry. He had short black hair and a strong build and most importantly he wore yellow and black clothes which were fitting of a true Baratheon. His arms contained the symbol of a stag and Robb could see that he had some his clothes contained light armor. Robb was also quite pleased to see the look of awe and wonderment on his face as he looked around at the sight of Winterfell. The other princes were clearly amazed by the sights as well. The elder, Robard, had a black and gold stag counter-charged, unlike the others. Robb watched with concealed disdain at the sight of the royal carriage that entered Winterfell. The men of the Vale then came with Denys Arryn's two sons, Raymont and Osbert. Raymont had broad shoulders, sandy brown hair, deep blue eyes and dimples as he smiled at the sight of Winterfell after he removed the falcon helm. Osbert had a leaner frame and face than his brother. Both of them appeared as true knights of the Vale with their dark blue cloaks lined with silver.

He soon took noticed of the man that rode in from behind the carriage, he was in between two Kingsguard and Robb knew that it was the King. However he wasn't what he had envisioned. He had expected a fit and strong warrior but instead all he saw was a large man, with a red face. At the corner of his eye, Robb saw Gendry and one of the others roll his eyes when the King had use a stool to get off the horse. They all bowed just as the King stepped off the stool and Robb could literally feel the shock coming from his half brother, Jon. No doubt his half brother was just as shocked as he was by the King's Robert stopped in front of his father and the King signaled for them all to rise. Robb watched with fascination as the King and his father seemed to stare each other down."You've got fat." King Robert said resisted the urge to smirk when his father glanced at King Robert's fat stomach. It seemed that King Robert understood the humour of the situation as he laughed loudly in response. His father let out a chuckle as well before the two of them embraced each other tightly. Once they disengaged from their brotherly hug, King Robert turned to his mother and hugged her tightly as if she was the King's sister. After he broke from the hug, he gave Rickon a quick ruffle of his hair.

"Twelve years it's been. Where have you been? Why haven't I seen you?" Robert asked his father."Guarding the North for you, your Grace. Winterfell is yours." His father replied was then Robb saw the Queen, Cersei Lannister, exit the carriage with her daughter and youngest son. They both had her blonde hair and green eyes. While he might not be too fond of the Lannisters, thanks to his father's stories, but he had to admit that the tales of the Queen's beauty appeared to be true."You must be Robb." A gruff voice said as King Robert walked in front of him. Robb nodded and he shook the King's hand strongly. He had to admit that despite the King's overweight appearance, he had a strong grip. King Robert seemed to approve of the strength that Robb gripped back.

"My... you're a pretty one." King Robert complimented Sansa as he past her before he looked down at little Arya and the king seemed to freeze for a moment. He then asked curiously, "You... what's your name?""Arya." His little sister said bluntly. Even in the face of the King, she wasn't intimidated. Robb didn't know a girl that was as fearless as Arya Robert nodded before looking at his last sibling and the King told Bran, "Show me your muscles." Bran happily lifted up his arm and flexed his right bicep. King Robert grinned widely, "You'll be a soldier." Robb's attention on King Robert ended when he noticed the Queen approach his father. She held out her hand and Robb watched his father give it a light kiss while his mother bowed to the queen.

It was a plain courteous custom but the beauty that Robb had seen in the Queen vanished when he saw the look on her face. She looked at them as they were all beneath and unworthy of her attention. It sickened him that such a bitch had to be Queen."Take me down to your crypt, Ned. I would like to pay my respects." King Robert informed his father. "We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait." Queen Cersei spoke up in protest. Robb seriously doubted that he was the only one to pick up on the lack of affection in the Queen's Robert ignored her and Robb saw his father nod apologetically to the Queen before heading off with the King."Where's the imp?" Robb heard Arya mutter. "Shut up!" Sansa snapped watched Queen Cersei turn to her twin brother and asked him angrily, "Where is our brother? Go find the little beast!"

Raymont and Osbert quickly embraced each of their cousins. Soon, they all vanished and went off to dining hall. "He ... was not what I expected." Jon said. "I didn't expect him to be so..." Robb trailed off but was quickly interrupted by none other but the crown prince. "Fat? I know. Just make sure you don't say that to his face." Gendry said. Robb and Jon immediately bowed to him, in their own way for insulting his father. "Rise. I'll have none of that while I'm here." Gendry said. "Please accept our most humblest apologies, my prince." Robb and Jon said. "Enough. No formalities. I get enough of that at the Red Keep. Please, call me Gendry." he said. It was strange that the prince did not want to be addressed as such. "If that's the case then. I am Robb Stark, Lord Eddard Stark's eldest son and heir." Robb introduced himself. "Jon" he said, and promptly left. "What's his problem?" Gendry asked. "He's my brother. Jon Snow." Robb replied. "Bastard? What does it matter?" Gendry said. Robb was surprised by this as well. "I've met my own bastard brother and sister. Doesn't matter to me." Gendry replied. There is more to the crown prince than he knows.

**Sansa**

"Has father agreed to it?" Sansa asked. Surely, Joffrey was a handsome lad, but Gendry was more handsome. Tall, built like the Warrior and had the most beautiful blue eyes. "He is considering it." Catelyn said to her calmly, not wanting to rile up her daughter with the dream of being a queen. "And he ought to. You've grown into a rather beautiful young lady since I saw you last." said the voice of her cousin Raymont Arryn. Raymont and Sansa quickly embraced. "Gods. You're much taller than I saw you last." Raymont laughed. "Is he truly gallant as they say?" Sansa asked her cousin, wanting the tales to be true. "Oh, aye. Started winning tourneys at the age of eight. Knighted by Ser Barristan Selmy himself at ten. Went off to foster with Lord Tywin. Remembered how pissed off the King was sending his son and heir to train at the "Lion's Den". But then made it to Dorne with me. Then we quickly left with our buttocks still intact." Raymont said. "Why is that?" Sansa asked.

Raymont tried to find the best words to explain how the Princess of Dorne took his maidenhead, Gendry offered to marry her and was quickly ordered to leave by the Red Viper alongside him. "Let's just say, Dorne has no great love for us." Raymont said. "I know you'd make a great match. But Gendry's still rather shy around pretty maidens. And after seeing you, he may just turn into a stumbletounge." Raymont explained. Sansa began to giggle at this. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She loved the sound of it.

**Bran**

Bran wandered around looking for his direwolf. He had still not chosen a name for it and he wasn't going to name something as ridiculous as Shaggydog. He then saw it by the side of Prince Robard Baratheon. The prince laid by a tree, playing a familiar tune on a flute. "Hello" Bran said meekly. Robard was completely taken aback by this. "You surprised me." he said. Bran studied his face. A strong jaw, long flowing black hair, broad-shouldered and eyes as blue and deep as the sea. And yet, something about him reminds me of Father. "Your friend here, seems to be quite taken with me. You're Brandon Stark, right?" Prince Robard said, petting his direwolf. "I am. I'm called Bran by almost everyone though. You're King Robert's nephew? Lord Stannis' son?" Bran asked. "Robard. His eldest. But he isn't as hard as everyone says. My sister told me he was a very kind man when he married my mother." Robard said. "What happened?" Bran asked, his curiosity peaked. "The war. My mother perished during the Siege of Storm's End in Robert's Rebellion. A fever took her. Me and my brother were only babes when she died." Robard said solemnly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Bran said, holding his head in shame. "No, its fine. Lady Delena was as close a mother to me and my siblings. Jena told me that she was the only one who could make my father smiled. Armond shares that with my father. He can be a happy man, but he never smiles. Not after he had a similar experience" Robard said. Bran was confused by this. "There will come a time in your life when love will be the bane of your duty. Armond learned this the hard way. There was someone he loved immensely that he defied our father and married her. Then he lost her after she bore his children. The life that filled my brother's eyes left. But his sons do give him some joy." Robard said. Bran wondered if this applied to his father. To his brother Jon. Did his father love Jon's mother so much that he kept her identity hidden from everyone?

"I'm very sorry for bothering you, Prince Robard." Bran said, meekly and about to leave. "It's alright. You haven't bothered nor offended me. I heard you want to be a knight from some of the people. That you're quite the climber." Robard said. "I'm the best climber ever. And i will be the best knight ever!" Bran said, immediately perking up. "I have no doubts about either of those things. But being a knight isn't like all the stories and songs you hear" Robard smiled. "I will be a true knight. Like Barristan the Bold and Aemon the Dragonknight." "First, you ought to know what is like to hold a sword. You may not be able to hold it, but ..." Robard said. He then quickly took off the greatsword strapped to his back and unsheathed it. It's as big as Ice. "This is Valyrian steel." Bran said excitedly, staring at the blade with awe. "This is Defiance. The ancestral sword of House Baratheon. Legend tells that Orys Baratheon used it to slay the last Storm King, Argrilac the Arrogant. Legend also has it that his strength rivaled that of the Gods; that he was able to lift it with a single hand and slay his enemies with the flick of his wrist." Robard said excitedly. The prince then began to tell tales of the greatest knights, which ones were their favorites, and which ones they aspired to be like.

**Arya**

As usual, Arya had ran away from Septa Mordane's lessons. She then saw the crown prince at Mikken's forge. She could see why they called him the Blacksmith Prince. He had already began to hammer away the burning steel. Mikken had nodded and smiled with approval and was amazed at the prince's skill. "Didn't think I'd find you in here." Arya blurted out. Prince Gendry was so surprised that he nearly dropped the hammer on to his feet. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that" Gendry exclaimed. Just as she could retort, another one of the Baratheon princes came along with her cousin Osbert. "How you doing, little wildling?" Osbert said, as he scooped her up into a hug. "Fine. I understand why the people call him the Blacksmith Prince." Arya said.

**THNK! THNK! "**Gods, I love that sound. How the steel sings as I hit into it" Gendry said, pleased with the forge and the sword he was making. Daven simply stood by, cleaning his blade. It was a very interesting blade: an ivory dragon-head pommel with a black edge and pale blade. Valyrian steel. "Is that real?" she asked him. He simply stared at her and resumed cleaning the blade. "Hey! I asked you a question!" she nearly screamed in annoyance. "Daven isn't much of a talker." Osbert said. ""if you want ot know where and how he got it, he found it on Dragonstone." Prince Gendry told her. She then looked at him with the utmost curiosity. Was he lying? "You're lying, aren't you?" "Y'know, cousin. You shouldn't insult people who are bigger than you." Osbert said.

"Then I wouldn't get to insult anyone!" Arya retorted. All the boys laughed, even Daven the Silent. "Tale's true. One day, Auric was just wondering about and he found it on the shore. The pommel was a bit broke but I fixed it up." Gendry said. Frankly, she knew that he spoke the truth. There wasn't anything about Prince Gendry that made him seem like a deceitful person. "Can't think of a name." Auric said. They all looked at him with curiosity. His voice was soft like the summer wind. "What?" she said, confused by what he said. "My sword. Can't think of a name for it." Arya stared at the sword and thought about it. "How about Dragonbane?" she suggested. Daven then stared at the sword and held it above his head. "Dragonbane. Fitting." he said, pleased with the name. "Well, I'm off to the training grounds. Gendry, you coming?" Osbert said. "I'll be there soon enough. Nice knowing you, m'lady." Gendry said. "Do not call me m'lady!" Arya screamed. "As m'lady commands" Gendry said, continuing to mock her. She then gave the prince a hard shove. "Gods. That was unladylike." Arya then shoved him harder, falling on the ground. Rather than being offended and ordering her to be arrested, he simply laughed it off.

_**Just like to clarify that in terms of the character's ages, it would be more in tune to their ages in the show. For example, Jon and Robb would be closer to being fifteen-sixteen rather than thirteen-fourteen**_


	3. Chapter 3

**298 AC**

**Ned**

The feast from the previous day was rather grand to say the least. Robert always had a large appetite for life. And a large appetite as of lately. It had taken him some convincing to not betroth his son Gendry to Arya. He knew his friend was trying to bring the ghosts of his past together. Gendry who looked so much like his father in his younger days, and Arya who has inherited Lyanna's looks and wild spirit. Ultimately, they both decided and announced at the feast that it be in the best interests of both their houses that Sansa and Gendry be betrothed to one another. Baratheon and Stark united at last. Sansa's face lit up at the prospect of marrying him, while Gendry had a massive flush of red on his face. It was clear that whereas Robert was confident with women, Gendry appeared rather shy around them. Nevertheless, he was a kind, charming and courteous lad.

Catelyn came to his chambers, asking him about Jon's eventual departure for the Wall. "Don't worry. I'm not making him go, it's his choice." "No. That wasn't what I was about to ask, Ned. I was simply wondering whether you could grant him a spot of some sort. Perhaps the captain of guards?" Catelyn asked. It had been strange, even as of late. Catelyn never truly liked Jon but over the years, she had shown him great deals of kindness. "Simply because I'm not your lady mother, doesn't mean I can't help you when you need it" , he remembered her saying to Jon when she found out he had been taking food to take care of a small bird that broke its wing.

"I'm simply saying that, is it wise to send him to the Wall? You told him the legends of it but you and I both know what it has become as of now." Catelyn said. She had a point. Back then, young men willingly went to go to the Wall. Now, it served more like a prison than a brotherhood. Suddenly, he realized what she was coming to. "How long have you known?" "Known what, Ned?" Catelyn asked him. "That Jon is not mine?" Catelyn then stared at him, her eyes widened.

"Since Benjen left for the Watch, all those years ago. I wanted to ask you about his mother again. I didn't mean to overhear but I did." Catelyn admitted. Ned was shocked to say the least. Ned maintained his composure and face for a minute at the least. "She died after birthing him and made me promise to keep him safe. I had never been more lost and confused and scared than at that moment. The war, the deaths, all of it... She had run off and married him. Our father and brother were murdered. And my little sister lay there sobbing as she died until I promised to keep her child safe. I had to claim him as my bastard... it was the only way" he explained

"Why did you never tell me yourself?" Catelyn asked.  
"It was treason. I did not want you and our children harmed if anything happened..."  
Catelyn was at a loss for words. There was so much to take in. Her husband's dangerous and painful secrets. The eventual departure of Ned, the girls and her son for the south... "You would send a prince to the Wall?" "Never speak of it! Jon goes to the Wall for his safety. With Benjen as First Ranger, he can look out for him. Let him live a normal life and never believe himself to be anything but a Stark and he will be safer for it. We will all be safer for it. If anyone ever learned the truth we would all be killed!" Ned said with much fear and anger filling his voice. "Who else knows about Jon?" Catelyn asked. "Myself, Howland Reed, and Denys Arryn. With Jon dead and Denys bedridden, I need to go south. Despite my own promise to never go back down there unless there was a war. Although, I fear that it awaits us" Ned said grimly.

**Robb**

Robb watched the two boys fight one another. Tommen did not seem as inexperienced as Bran. Clearly, Gendry had taken an interest in training his younger brother. The Baratheons and his Arryn cousins cheered on Tommen while he, Arya and Jon cheered on Bran. "Beat him into the dirt, Bran!" Arya yelled out. "C'mon, Tommen! Show these wolves the meaning of our words!" Gendry yelled out, cheering on his little brother. "Ours is the Fury!" Tommen cried out. "Winter is Coming!" Bran cried out. Bran ultimately knocked down the young stag down with a simple swing. Rather than gloat and rather than act like a sore loser, they both shook hands on good sportsmanship.

"Alright then. Prince Joffrey, Robb, care to go another round?" Ser Rodrik Cassel asked.  
"This is nothing but a game for children, Ser Rodrik" Jofrey said as Robb took out a tourney blade.  
"You are children!" Theon barked out.  
"Robb may be a child but I am a prince. And I am growing weary of swatting around with toy swords"  
"You got more swats than you gave? Afraid?" Robb said, pride filling his voice.  
"Oh, I'm absolutely terrified! You're so much older!" Joffrey said mockingly, the Lannister men then laughed.  
"Never mind him, Robb. Prince Joffy is much to worried that his pride will be tainted should he lose again. it will further establish his lacking of swordsmanship to those who haven't seen him in King's Landing!" Raymont boldly yelled.  
"You would do kindly as to not address your future king like that!" Joffrey growled, his handsome features now erased and replaced with anger and malice. The Lannister and Baratheon men then shot looks at him.  
"Thankfully, our father still has many years ahead of him. You forget that I succeed him. And frankly, if you rule as well as you fight, I shudder to see how all of Westeros will suffer." Gendry said. Laughter was then sparked from the Arryn and Baratheon men.  
Joffrey then called on his father's squires; his cousins: Lancel Lannister, Tyrek Lannister, and Lorent Lefford. "Live swords! I'll remove your horns, brother and then remove their wings!" Joffrey maniacally shouted and pointed at his brother and the Arryn siblings.  
"If you want to die so badly, all you had to do was ask!" Armond yelled out tauntingly.  
"My lords! Cease this madness! I will not permit the use of live swords on these grounds!" Rodrik commanded them. Joffrey then stared down at his brother, their hatred for one another was evident. "Let's go. These children are beneath us." Joffrey ordered his younger brother and the squires.

Gendry then seemed calm and asked if anyone wanted to spar with him. He then saw Jon instruct Edwyle and Cregard Mormont and Errold Cassel **(A/N: Jorah's sons from his previous marriage and Jory's only son) **on proper sword stances. "Oy! Jon! Care for a go?" Gendry asked. Nearly everyone, even Robb was surprised by this. "My Prince. Jon cannot fight with you. A bastard cannot harm a prince" Rodrik explained. "And if we were on the field of battle? Would that rule still exist?" Gendry pointed out. "Fair enough." Rodrik said.  
They both quickly drew out their blades and began to fight. Gendry's swings held a lot of power in them while Jon was more quick and dodged the majority of them. They both were fast and fierce. Jon had been able to trip Gendry but he quickly got up and tackled him down to the ground. Jon then reached for the blade and swung it at Gendry's head. Gendry got up though and commenced to swing again with more precision that he nearly threw Jon off balance. But Jon quickly tripped the prince. "Yield. I yield" Gendry said, exhausted and panting hard, as was Jon. Jon then helped the prince get up. "Great match. Though you fight like a demon possessed. How did you fight like that?" Jon asked. "I was trying to look for a decent armourer one day, but I got lost in Flea Bottom. A boy had taught me to fight like that; tackling down my opponent, brawling." Gendry explained.

**Jon**

"You ever thought about becoming a Kingsguard?" Gendry said, swallowing a swig of water. Jon was surprised by this. He never thought himself as a member of the Kingsguard. "Can't say I have. I'd be a man of the Night's Watch, like every other Stark man before me." Jon said with a sense of pride. "You would want to be alongside rapers and murderers?" Gendry asked, surprised by this. Jon looked at him confused by what he was saying. "The Night's Watch may have been a noble order once, but now its a way for criminals to avoid death. But frankly, being in the cold and freezing their arses off; they'd already be dead. But then again, it takes a truly selfless person to willingly join the Night's Watch, like the Old Bear of House Mormont" Gendry said.

Jon was perturbed by what he was told about the Night's Watch but was also intrigued by the offer. "I can't be though. I'm a bastard." Jon said. "And? Some of the greatest Kingsguard were bastards! Tell you what. My uncle Tyrion wants to see the Wall before we head back to King's Landing. Why don't we go together? If you still want to freeze your arse farther north and drive away wildlings for the rest of your life, you can stay. I won't force you to come. But should you decide to come,you'll act as guard to me. And once you've proven yourself worthy, I'll knight you and you can take a name of your choosing." Gendry said. Jon knew from when he could form words with his mouth that he would not have a lot of choices as a bastard.

"Alright then. I'll consider it. But why would you want a bastard in the Kingsguard?" Jon asked. "Frankly, you'd be a breath of fresh air to all those pompous pricks. Meryn Trant is a vile man. Boros Blout enjoys getting drunk in his spare time. And Ser Preston has the bark of a lion but no fangs. Despite having broken his vows, my uncle is deserving of the white cloak. As well as Ser Mandon, Ser Arys and Barristan the Bold. But you are more deserving. Don't sell yourself short just because you're a bastard." Gendry said. Jon had never had this much praise from one person. It was all so much to take in. "I'll have to ask my father about it" Jon said.

As Jon came into his father's chambers, he overheard something.  
"Ned, he should kno- "  
"He cannot! I will not having him being used by the southron lords games!"  
Jon then knocked on the door. As his father come and opened it, Lady Catelyn and Lord Stark then stared at him with a strangeness filling their eyes. "Lord Stark? I need to ask you something" Jon said. Lady Catelyn then left, looking even more uncomfortable in his presence. "Jon. Of course. What is it you want to ask me?" Ned said. "Prince Gendry has asked me to come along with to King's Landing. He says that I have promise to be in the Kingsguard. I was wondering if I may go down south to train and become one?" Jon asked. Ned then looked at him with uncertainty. "I thought you wanted to be a man of the Night's Watch?" Ned asked him. "I did. But Prince Gendry told me the truth about it; how it's filled with rapers and murderers." Jon said. "Aye. It's true. The Night's Watch has become a shadow on what it once was. But men can still rise and have honor in it." Ned said. "Prince Gendry wants to see the Wall with Lord Tyrion before they depart for King's Landing. He said I should come either way; to see whether I'll still take the black." Jon said. He studied his father's face. It was stern and yet solemn, like he was contemplating something. "Go with them. I won't force you to take the black. But should you come, prepare yourself. Being a Kingsguard is no laughing matter." Ned said. "Thank you, father." Jon said with a small smile on his face.

**Sansa**

She had been looking for the prince. She knew it was unladylike but she wanted to see the prince fight. All the men have said that he'd be one of the most greatest knights in all of Westeros. Having been trained by Ser Barristan the Bold, she heard that he aspires to be a true knight like him.

"Looking for someone?" a voice said. Sansa turned around and saw the youngest Baratheon prince. Daven Baratheon was quite as handsome as his brother. He had a mop of black hair, a strong jawline and beautiful blue eyes like his cousin. While Gendry's eyes were a dark blue as the sea, Daven's eyes were light and bright like crystals of ice.

"My prince. I was looking for your cousin, Prince Gendry" Sansa curtsied. Daven then gave her a stern bow. "I saw him last on the training grounds. He had been cheering on his brother to defeat yours" Daven said. His voice was soft and yet had a daunting command tone to it. "Prince Tommen and my brother Bran?" Sansa asked. "Yes. I do believe so." Daven said. "Prince Daven, may I ask you just what Prince Gendry is like?" Sansa asked, curious as to what kind of person her betrothed is. "I'm not to certain, my lady. Gendry and I don't spend a lot of time with each other. But I know he's a good man and he's honest and honorable to a fault." Daven said."Excited about being queen, my lady?" Daven asked. Sansa nodded. It was a dream of hers. She began to envision herself and Gendry being married in front of the Grand Sept of Baelor. "Good luck to you, my lady" Daven said.

**Robard**

He had went off to continue training Bran. It was rather fun teaching "Brandon the Climber" how to be a proper knight. He had even suggested that he would be his squire. Bran even said that he would be Brandon Stark the Direknight, as a nod to his favorite hero, Aemon the Dragonknight As he looked on, he saw Bran climbing the Eastern Tower. He envied the boy's ability to climb like that. But he was worried. "Bran! Bran, get down from there!" Robard shouted.

But something was strange. Something began to hold Bran as he was close to the top of the tower. A strange shade of gold. Brandon Stark then began to fall out of the tower. Robard immediately began to run toward him. He had already seen the direwolf act worried. **"BRAN!"**

**_I found it fairly difficult to keep writing Catelyn as a complete hater toward Jon and the fact this was one of her major faults in the books, I kinda eliminated it. Here, she's distant to say the least: she doesn't love Jon but she doesn't really hate him either. Sorry for all you Gendrya shippers, but the nature of their relationship is purely platonic; a friendship. Joffrey will be having a major role to play and still act like his charming/sadistic self. Yes, Jon and Gendry will be forging a friendship. Frankly, I kinda wanted to see them encounter one another._**

**_Expect numerous OCs and a certain degree of renaming some existing characters; I won't be doing it a lot though. If you're wondering as to how the Baratheon cousins look like; Ben Barnes or Tarong Egerton as Robard and William Moseley (with black hair dye) as Armond and Lincoln Younes as Daven Baratheon. As for the Arryn boys, Daniel Sharman as Raymont and George MacKay as Osbert Arryn. _**


	4. Chapter 4

**298 AC**

**Bran**

_Falling. Falling. Falling. That is all Bran could feel, see, hear and do. He was falling yet he could not see the ground, for it was covered in white mists that swirled and rose and fell, never revealing what lay below them, for they went down as Bran went down. Fear gripped Bran like iron shackles on a prisoner, the icy tendrils of pure, unbridled terror wrapping themselves around his heart, squeezing gently, squeezing the warmth and joy out of him. _

_"Help me!" Bran cried out desperately. "Someone help me! Please!"_

_The panic in him began to rise like a wave, covering his his legs so that he could not move them. And then suddenly, there was a raven. But this was no ordinary raven for it had three eyes, three beady, black eyes, that had within them an intelligence. It watched Bran calmly, circling the boy as he fell, not making a sound as he struggled against his invisible bonds._

_"Help me!" Bran screamed at the raven. "Please help me! I don't want to die!" he sobbed, not expecting anything to happen._

_"It is coming." the raven said, taking Bran by surprise._

_"Y-Y-You can talk!?" Bran stuttered._

_"It is coming youngling." the raven screeched, ignoring the boy. "It is coming and it will swallow the world into the abyss. You must help the Prince stop it. Or you will all die."_

_"What are you talking about?! Why won't you help me?!" Bran shouted, tears falling from his eyes._

_"You must listen now and listen well, or else your friends will not be ready." the raven said, its voice cutting through Bran's fear like a knife through cake and dispelling his anxiety. It cocked its head at Bran, almost as if it was waiting for him. Bran nodded slowly, not sure as to whether he was going insane or not. It would appear that he wasn't, as the raven clicked its beak and ruffled its feathers, like it was settling in to tell Bran a story._

_"The princes shall face realm as it goes into dread. In each step, one shall be dead. They shall face demise and help the dragons rise. Whether they shall live or whether they shall die will be decided by he who flies." the raven said in a lilting, sing-song voice. "And when that's done the Others come, with eyes of ice and nothing nice, to kill all those with things to lose...and leave no-one here alive." it rhymed._

_"What does that even mean!? Why are you telling me this!? Please help me! I don't want to die!" Bran cried, the suffocating grip of fear returning to his body as the mists below vanished and he suddenly saw the cold flagstones of Winterfell's courtyard rushing up to meet him._

_"Then fly."_

Suddenly, Bran had awoken from the dream.

**Jon**

Bran's fall had really gotten under Jon's skin. The only thing that gave him some piece of mind was that Prince Robard caught him before he hit the ground. His head and legs slightly injured but he'd be fine. His worry stopped once he had gazed his eyes upon the Wall. Seven hundred feet high and three hundred miles long, he could barely see the top. During the trip, Uncle Benjen had told him that a dozen knights could ride abreast along the top, and Jon now believed him. As they rode toward Castle Black, with the Wall increasingly looming over them, Jon looked at Gendry and saw a stunned look on his face as well. "Can you imagine that men did this?" "If I didn't before, I do now." "I remember the stories of how Brandon the Builder, founder of House Stark, had giants help in the construction. Giants! What a sight that would be!" Jon could scarcely contain his excitement. Looking at the other members of the party he saw different reactions; Uncle Benjen looked at the Wall with fondness, as if he was coming home after a long journey. Yoren, after spitting out another gob of that disgusting sourleaf, looked relieved to be rid of his charges and able to get some decent food in his belly and a warm bed for his back. The recruits looked up at the Wall with a mixture of fear and resignation.

"So, what do you think?" Gendry asked. Jon told the prince that it was great to see the Wall. "Are you sure you want to be here? Not all bastards are meant for the Wall, y'know?" Gendry said. "I'm still thinking about your offer, my prince." Jon said. "Gendry. No formalities, just call me Gendry. We're friends, aren't we?" Gendry said. Jon was surprised to say the least. He considered Errold and Cregard to be his friends and even like brothers. Cregard even suggested that Jon marry one of his cousins. Robb had always been his friend and brother but he never thought of Gendry being his friend. "You honor me to be called your friend, Gendry." Jon said.

As Benjen and a small group of Rangers went off, Jon wanted to go with them but Benjen told him to stay put. "Let's go" Gendry said, taking his arm. "My uncle Benjen told us to stay here!" Jon retorted. "And? C'mon, you mean to tell me you never wanted to see what lies beyond the Wall?" Gendry asked. He had to admit though. If he joined the Night's Watch, he'd more than likely be a Ranger like Benjen. He should know what it's like beyond the wall. "Alright then. But we head back immediately after!" Jon said sternly. He then heard himself; he truly was Ned Stark's son. As they began to make their way into the haunted forest, a crow came. It began to cry loudly and directly at them. His wolf answered by taking off into the woods after the raven, with the two of them in hot pursuit.

It didn't help that the last light of the sun was all but gone. Miraculously, they didn't trip over any rocks or exposed roots. How long he ran he couldn't tell, but before he knew it Ghost had slowed to a walk and then stopped before a massive weirwood tree with their quarry sitting on one of its branches. Jon gazed in awe; it was as big as the tree in the godswood at Winterfell, perhaps bigger. It's face looked worn, yet angry at the same time. But he realized that it wasn't the tree that Ghost was trying to show him, but rather what was underneath it. A large root had ripped open the earth, leaving a massive cavern into which the raven flew into and Ghost sat in front of patiently while Jon found his flint and tinder. As the torch burst into light, he unsheathed his sword and stepped into the cavern following Ghost who soundlessly entered the cavern. Both he and Gendry followed the raven's call down a long passage, with Gendry marveling at the roots of the tree and how they covered the walls and floor. 'This tree is probably old enough to be from the days when the Children of the Forest lived here.' Jon thought to himself as the torchlight cast eerie shadows on the walls. When they reached the end of the passage, they encountered a small cavern where they saw the raven sitting on a massive root. Or rather something sticking out of the root. Ghost stopped immediately and looked at intensely. When Jon saw it, he felt his breath catch in his throat. A longsword was buried in the root, covered in dirt and dust. In the torchlight he recognized the ripples in the blade. This was a blade of Valyrian steel. With a final caw, the raven took flight and made its way back to the surface. Sticking the torch into the ground and sheathing his sword, Jon slowly made his way over the root where the sword resided. Upon further inspection, he saw the wood around the blade was...infected somehow, like an untreated wound. He remembered Maester Luwin spoke of how difficult it was to treat such wounds, how inflamed the flesh was around the wound and how horrible the smell could be. Gently, he wrapped his hands around the hilt and began to rock the blade back and forth. Before long the rotted wood had given way and the sword came free. Kneeling by the torch, he used his cloak to wipe away the dirt and grime and the true beauty of the sword came to his sight. Suddenly, his eyes widened and his breath caught for a second time as recognition of the blade passed through his mind. This sword was legendary, wielded first by a warrior queen who rode a mighty dragon into battle centuries ago. She had burned a whole fleet of ships at Gulltown, destroyed the armies of the Reach and the Rock at the Field of Fire and won the Falcon Crown of the Vale of Arryn. It had also been wielded by others whose names carried through the histories with renown or scorn, even both: The Rogue Prince, The Dragonknight, and Bloodraven. It hadn't been seen in decades and now it was in his hands. The sword of Queen Visenya Targaryen.

"That's ...Dark Sister." Gendry whispered the name with a holy reverence of some sort and suddenly a great wind blew through the cavern. Startled, Ghost began frantically barking but then as quickly as it had come it was gone. To Jon it seemed as if the tree was...sighing, as if showing relief in having the sword finally removed. As he stood, he saw the gash where the sword had impaled the root begin to slowly heal. It would be years before it would be fully healed, but it was healing. He gripped the hilt in both hands and slowly began to perform the exercises that Ser Rodrik had taught him from the time he could walk. Acting on instinct, he whirled the blade through the motions with ever increasing speed. When he finished, he opened his eyes and felt tears. He had heard the sword's song, and it was beautiful. Jon then spotted something around the spot where the blade had been: an armguard and a crown of sorts. Gendry immediately picked them up and observed them. "These things have runes: runes of the First Men!" Gendry exclaimed. Jon then looked at the objects closely. "This armguard ... it's from House Blackwood. See the ravens decorated around the fingers? And this ... is a crown. I think it's the Crown of the Kings of Winter. See the wolf?" Jon said. It was dusty but the wolf at the centre of it was quite clear.

Wiping his eyes and surveying the cavern one last time, walked toward the tunnel with Ghost at his side and Dark Sister and the torch in his hands. As they emerged into the open air, he looked at the tree and saw that the carved face was now...smiling. 'My eyes are playing tricks on me.' He thought as he tossed the torch upon the ground and turned toward camp. Taking a deep breath of the cold air, he looked at Ghost plodding alongside him."Well boy, how do I explain all this back at camp? Any ideas?" All Ghost could do was cock his head and whine in a manner that seemed to say 'Don't look at me. "Thanks. What would I do without you?" With a scratch behind his ears, he sent him on ahead while took his time getting accustomed to the blade in his hands. "Well, I never expected this kind of adventure out here." Gendry said. Suddenly, the two boys began to laugh heartily. Like his direwolf, he had made some strange connection with this sword. It was a part of him now, and no one would take it from him. No one.

When he arrived back at camp everyone was worried about him. Jon had hugged Benjen tightly, Yoren had commented on what a handful he would be for the Watch and Tyrion had jokingly chastised him for wandering off and leaving him all alone. Benjen, of course, was furious. He shouted at Jon, saying that as a Stark he should know better than to go wandering off into the Wolfswood alone at night. But all talk ceased when he showed Dark Sister and suddenly everyone wanted to look at and hold it. Even the prisoners, but one look from Yoren quashed their curiosity. Once the excitement had gone down most of the camp went to sleep save for those on watch. Jon and Tyrion stayed awake as well; Tyrion reading one of his many books and Jon would absentmindedly turn Dark Sister in his hand and wipe it with a clean rag, with one or the other occasionally poking the fire to keep it alive. The courtyard was a buzz of activity as they dismounted and tied up their horses in the stables; Rangers either sparing or practicing archery, Stewards cataloging supplies and laboring in the armory, and Builders transporting tools and materials up to the top to fix and maintain the battlements. Everyone was doing something, and they were all covered in black. Right away, he could see who was who: Those who could afford to were wearing black clothes and black armor, custom-made in anticipation of their recruitment. Those who couldn't appeared to have simply painted their clothes black. Some of them didn't do so good a job. Suddenly a great, deep voice shook him from his reverie. "Welcome back, First Ranger." Jon looked up and saw an old man in a long black cloak descending to the courtyard from the Lord Commander's Tower. From his father's tales he recognized the man; Jeor Mormont, former lord of Bear Island, the ancestral seat of House Mormont. Broad-shouldered and strong with a shaggy gray and white beard, despite his age Jon knew this man to be a seasoned warrior and leader from his confident stride and how comfortable the sword looked strapped to his waist. On his shoulder sat a raven, larger than any he had ever seen before. It had a glint in its eyes that fascinated and disturbed him, as if the raven knew things no one else knew. Things it wasn't supposed to know. "I trust you enjoyed yourself at Winterfell?" "Glad to be back, Lord Commander Mormont, and I did. And I brought some new recruits." He motioned to Yoren and his men who escorted the prisoners to the barracks. "May I present my nephew, Jon Snow, and Prince Gendry Baratheon" Gendry and Jon politely bowed "And we have a special guest with us. May I introduce Tyrion, son of Tywin of House Lannister." Tyrion came forward and bowed as well. "It's a pleasure to have you all here. Have you all come to take the black?" "Jon might. I'm here for support while Tyrion is here to see the Wall, and nothing more." "Understood. Just remember that all are welcome, regardless of rank, race, or...size." Mormont motioned to Tyrion, who grinned smugly, and then called over a steward. "Have rooms prepared for our guests in the King's Tower. We would be honored to have you at supper tonight. Snow, we'll set you up with lodgings in Hardin's Tower for the duration of your training. I trust this is acceptable to all?" All three nodded and then Mormont departed. As the party unpacked their saddlebags, Jon craned his neck to look upon the Wall and felt a cold lump in his stomach.

With a lick from Ghost's tongue as acknowledgment, Jon lit the lantern with flint and tinder from his bags and walked out into the night. As the cold winds slammed into him, he breathed deeply. He felt his mind calm almost instantaneously so, feeling curious, he made his way to the library. He had been told by Lord Mormont that the library of Castle Black was massive and contained books that even the Citadel in Oldtown did not possess. Upon finding the entrance he crossed the threshold softly so as not to make any noise on the wooden floorboards and walked among the shelves. Holding the lantern to eye level, he marveled at some of the titles; _The Loves of Queen Nymeria, History of the Rhoynish Wars, The Jade Compendium, Wings of Conquest: The Chronicles of Artos Arryn_. He even saw a First Edition copy of _The Princess and The Queen_ by Archmaester Gyldayn. He marveled at the stacks of knowledge, and yet felt sad at the fact that even if he lived for a hundred years not all of them would be read. "Quite the collection, isn't it?" A squeak of surprise came from Jon's mouth as he whipped around to face whoever was at the door. "Oh, forgive me. I didn't mean to startle you." "No, it's alright. I wasn't expecting anyone else up at this hour."

"Likewise." The figure slowly drew closer to the light, his features slowly revealed. He looked ancient, with wrinkled skin, shrunken features and eyes that saw nothing. From his robe and the chain around his neck, Jon assumed that this was the maester. "Not many find their way to this library nowadays. A pity, a true and honest pity." Walking with measured steps, he guided himself into a nearby chair, which impressed Jon. 'He must have this entire library committed to memory.'

"I didn't see you at supper, maester...?"

"Aemon. Sometimes I take my meals with the ravens. I find it relaxing listening to their chatter. You might be surprised what you can learn listening to ravens. You are Jon Snow, I assume?"

"Yes. I'm here with Prince Gendry and Lord Tyrion. We just arrived today."

"And how do you find our modest order?" Jon struggled to find an appropriate answer, until he realized that Aemon wanted the truth. So he would give the truth.

"Not very impressive, to be honest. I mean no disrespect."

"None taken. It is true that our order has fallen on hard times. There was a time when every castle along the Wall had several hundred brothers. All volunteers, mind you. Every one of them willingly swearing to defend the realms of men from all that lay beyond. Now, most consider it a punishment for criminals and the last refuge for younger sons and the natural-born of nobility."

"I suppose it's because no one takes the Night's Watch seriously anymore."

"Indeed, but some do still. Like your uncle and Lord Mormont. And myself." Jon nodded in agreement. "Please sit." Placing the lantern and Dark Sister on the table, Jon pulled up a chair and sat down facing Aemon. "Am I to assume you will not be staying with us?"

"I'm not sure. There is so much of the world I haven't seen and I want to see as much of it as I can. But I want to be here as well."

"Is that why you're here in this library? To find something that would not spurn you?"

"I just wanted to calm my mind. I don't like having all of these thoughts about joining the Watch for the right reasons."

"And why do you think you should be joining?"

"I always thought that I should join the Watch. Being bastard-born, there could never be a place for me. Not even Winterfell, where I'm loved. Not even my brother Robb could dissuade me from coming here. He'd be Lord of Winterfell and I'd be ... no one"

"Have you considered that you would eventually find someplace and someone to call a home and a wife?"

"No. No, I didn't."

"That is one of the main reasons why members of the Night's Watch take no wives and father no children. So that they will not love; for love is the death of duty. Sometimes we have to give up the things we love because it is simply the right thing to do. I know this feeling all too well."

"You do?"

"Sit down, Jon Snow." Jon returned to his seat and focused his attention on Aemon, whose face had become hard. "My father was Maekar, the First of his Name and fourth son of Daeron, the Second of his Name. His first son and my older brother was also Daeron, although most people called him the Drunken. My next oldest brother was Aerion, who called himself Brightflame due to his singular belief that he was a dragon in human form. The idiot died drinking wildfire. My younger brother was Aegon, whom they called Egg and would later call the Unlikely. A sweet boy, a decent boy who became a fine king after I refused the throne. Of everything I left behind in King's Landing, his smile and laughter are what I miss the most. It's been almost seventy years since I last saw him, but I can still remember his face."

"Aemon...Targaryen?" Jon's eyes widened at this revelation. A living, breathing Targaryen sitting right in front of him.

"I was. Now I am simply Aemon, maester of the Citadel. Bound to serve Castle Black and the Night's Watch and nothing more. I surrendered my freedom to protect my brother from the bloodshed that would have followed had ambitious nobles declared me Maekar's rightful heir. Westeros could not afford another Dance of the Dragons. I have never regretted that decision, not once in seventy years. No, that's not right. I regretted it once, seventeen years ago. The day the ravens came from the south bearing news of my family's death and my house's ruin. How my nephew's son died a raving lunatic, and his firstborn son a tragic warrior. But the worst was the children. The little children! Butchered like livestock." The anger in Aemon's voice was so thick one could cut it with a knife. But behind that anger was genuine sadness for the loss of his family and his powerlessness to do anything about it.

"I'm sorry. I can't even imagine that kind of agony." Jon softly replied, taking Aemon's hands into his own. Aemon smiled and gripped them tightly. "I pray you never do. But remember I made this choice and I must live with all the consequences, good or ill. As your brother must, and as you must. Now, may I see your sword?" Silently, he gently gave the sword to Aemon, who ran his hands gently across the pommel, hilt and blade. "Where did you find it?"

"Buried in the root of a weirwood tree near the Last River, at the edge of the Wolfswood." Aemon smiled at this.

"I remember the last time I saw this sword. It was just after my great-uncle Brynden Rivers, or Bloodraven as many called him, and I arrived here. A fortnight before we were supposed to swear our vows, he disappeared with it. I feared he had decided to flee into exile like his half-brother Bittersteel. But he returned without the sword, only the scabbard. He never told me what he did with it, but now I know."

He placed it into Jon's hands. "He wanted you to find it."

"Me? But why? I'm no Targaryen."

"My great-uncle never did anything without a reason. The rumors that he dabbled in sorcery may have had a grain of truth to them. If you found Dark Sister, it was not by chance."

"It certainly doesn't feel like chance. Finding direwolves, my father being named Hand, and now finding a legendary Targaryen blade. It all seems too...convenient." Jon said, as his eyes wandered over the ripples in the blade.

"You and Rhaegar would have agreed on that. He never took such circumstances lightly." At Rhaegar's name his head snapped up. "You knew Rhaegar Targaryen?!"

"Indeed I did. We wrote each other many times, and I was always looking forward to his letters. He was quite a thoughtful man, for one so young. He would have made a fine king, had fate not had more tragic designs. And he would have liked you." Jon suddenly found himself blushing and selfishly thanked the gods that Aemon was blind.

"You honor me, maester Aemon."

"And you honor me by allowing me the chance to hold a piece of my history one last time. It pleases me to know that my family's legacy is in good hands. Now, get some sleep. Young men should get all the sleep they can. And tomorrow, would you care to join me here? I do enjoy discussing books with a fellow individual."

"I will, and thank you. For everything." And so Jon rose, taking Dark Sister in hand, and slowly walked out. As Jon made his way to the King's Tower, he began to realize he was being stupid about himself. 'Aemon and Tyrion are right', he thought. He was old enough to make decisions and can choose to be who ever he wants to be. As he slowly made his way inside and patted Ghost's head, he let out a massive yawn. Relieved that his mind would now allow his body the rest it needed, he disrobed quietly and crawled into bed. As his eyes closed, he knew the doubts were still there but for now the storm in his mind had subsided. And then he thought no more.

Over the next two days, save for meals, Jon spent most of his hours with Aemon while Tyrion conversed with Lord Mormont and Gendry trained. He walked with and read books to the maester, and in return he talked of his life before the Watch. Jon was fascinated by his detailed accounts of life as a Prince in the Red Keep, a maester at Dragonstone and everything in between. He spoke of his brother Aegon and how he squired for Ser Duncan the Tall, the Whitewalls Tourney where Daemon Blackfyre II was all but thrown to Bloodraven and the Raven's Teeth, and more. No matter what Aemon spoke of, Jon was enthralled. The best part was that he wasn't worrying about being condemned to the Watch.

On the third day, Jon found himself walking in the courtyard with Ghost at his side as Jon underwent sword training with several other new recruits. More accurately, as Gendry beat the shit out of several new recruits. All under the watchful, contemptuous gaze of Ser Alliser Thorne, master-at-arms of Castle Black. A slim and sinewy man in his fifties, he had black hair streaked with gray and black eyes set in a hard, calloused face that had seen many battles. His stance was of a man who was more than capable in a fight but didn't suffer fools in the slightest. He was hard on the trainees, none of whom had anything nice to say about him, especially Jon whom he had been mockingly referring to as 'Lord Snow'. He couldn't help but wince as Jon laid into one recruit after the other with the skills repetitiously taught by Ser Rodrick while the others held their blades as if they had never held a sword in their lives. For most of them that assumption was true. Finally, after another disparaging remark by Ser Alliser, the recruits were dismissed with most walking and the rest limping. Climbing the steps to the Lord Commander's Tower, he joined the two observers.

"Good day, Lord Commander. Tyrion." Lord Mormont silently nodded.

"And a good day to you my friend. Lord Mormont and I were just talking about Ser Alliser. Wouldn't you agree that he is quite a charming man?"

"If he's charming, I'm Shiera Seastar." Tyrion chuckled while the Lord Commander's face remained stoic, as if humor was something he had to throw away to survive in this harsh place. Or there was something on his mind that troubled him, so much so that he couldn't even think of humor.

"Whether or not Ser Alliser is charming is of no matter. What matters is that he can take this band of bastards, thieves and runaways and turn them into men of the Night's Watch." His voice sounded strained, as if his confidence in the Watch had waned over the years. Jon could sympathize.

"And how is that coming along?

"Slowly."

"The name sounds familiar. Isn't there a House Thorne?" Gendry silently thanked Tyrion for changing the topic. "Aye, there is. The Thornes are from the Crownlands, sworn to the Iron Throne. Not a great house, but they have a proud history. Ser Alliser fought for the Targaryens during the war against the Mad King. After the Lannister's sacked King's Landing, he was one of the few defenders left alive. Lord Tywin gave him a choice: The Black…or the block. Now his younger brother Tristan holds his lands."

"Hence his sunny disposition." Gendry chimed in, as he then left to the training yard.

"Indeed. Before I forget, master Aemon wanted you to have this." He pulled a scroll from his belt and handed it to Jon. "A raven came from Winterfell last night. For you." Unrolling the scroll, he began to read maester Luwin's handwriting carefully before his eyes grew wide. "Good news or bad?" Tyrion inquired. "Good mostly."

Jon then made his way to the training yard where Gendry had been trying to defend the new recruit, Samwell Tarly. "What are you doing?" Gendry said, as Rast the Raper attempted to assault the boy. "That's not your place, highborn!" Rast replied. "He's no ordinary highborn. You're addressing Prince Gendry Baratheon, the eldest son and heir to King Robert Baratheon, First of His Name." Jon said, as he pulled out Dark Sister and Ghost began to bare his teeth. Rast looked scared at first but then began to be interested in Jon. "And what are you then?" "Someone who isn't afraid of cutting down a raper like you!" Jon said, as he quickly placed the pointy end of Dark Sister at Rast's cheek. Rast and the other Watchmen left promptly.

"Thank you. I'm Samwell Tarly. You can call me Sam though." the plump boy said and then left. "I asked Lord Commander Jeor to grant him a pardon. He'd be more useful as the new maester of the Watch. He's really knowledgeable that he may give Grand Maester Pycelle a lesson himself. No offense to Aemon, but they'll need a new maester eventually. That boy may even be capable of being a Grand Maester" Gendry said. "I've thought about what you said. I'll go with you to King's Landing." Jon said. "Alright then. My uncle Tyrion is going to stay here for a little while longer. We'd best make our way to King's Landing then. Ser Barristan will like training you." Gendry said, as they then left to their chambers to prepare for their departure.

**_YES! Jon has the legendary Dark Sister. To clear up anything, Jeor's second grandson Cregard is in possession of Longclaw. Jon's presence in King's Landing may just change the game of thrones a bit. Bran's not crippled but his legs still receive a fair amount of injury, so he's still gonna need Hodor. _**


	5. Chapter 5

**298**

**Arya**

Her cousin Osbert had called upon her as she walked around the Ruby Ford. "Watcha doin', coz?" "Nothing" she quickly replied. "Looking for Rhaegar's rubies, ain't ya?" he immediately quipped. Her face then flushed. "Yes. This is the spot, right? Where King Robert had slain Rhaegar Targaryen?" Arya asked. "Oh, aye. Swung his warhammer so hard that the rubies from Rhaegar's armor had come clean off. That's why its called Ruby Ford"

"Os, what's it like in King's Landing?" she asked her cousin. She wanted the truth; not Stupid Sansa's imaginings of it. "If you're a visitor, you'll like it. For the time being. If you've lived there, like me and Raymont have, you'll want to leave it" he said. "Is King's Landing that bad a place?" "For the most part. Place is filled with a buncha thieves and other untrustworthy folk. But I won't be there for long. Me and Ray are gonna have to go back to the Vale" Osbert said. The news had saddened her. She loved her cousins and the fact that they wouldn't be there would make the experience more unbearable.

"Why would you have to go back to the Vale?" she asked. "With our grandfather Jon dead, and father ailing, Ray and I have to go back to ensure the allegiance of the other lords. Besides, we almost would have gone there because of mother. Though, she was acting strange. Stranger than usual." Osbert inquired. "How strange?" "She said something like we have to go with her, and that the lions will kill us all. She sounded like something possessed her" he said. Yes, that did sound strange. Does Aunt Lysa hate the Lannisters as much as everyone else?

Suddenly, she saw two riders approach: The crown prince Gendry and Jon. JON! He's here, she nearly cried out. He got off his stead and scooped her up into a loving embrace. Jon then unsheathed his blade, telling her that he and Gendry had found it during their stay at the Wall. It was the famed valyrian steel sword of Queen Visenya; Dark Sister. She felt jealous that her favorite brother had a valyrian steel sword; but then again, almost everyone in all of Wersteros. The craftsmanship was remarkable: the handle was a collection of silver barbs wending upwards into two arcs. The pommel was made in the same fashion, but encrusted with bright red rubies. When he pulled it free the Valyrian steel longsword gleamed even in the weak light of the cloud-covered day. Its blade was long and sharp to the touch, slimmer than the average longsword and lighter too. Jon did gift her with a beautiful archery armguard which was neatly decorated with ravens in flight.

Arya then went off to practice swordplay with Mycah, the butcher's boy. Suddenly, she heard someone call out her name. As she turned, Mycah had gotten off a lucky shot. "What're you doing here? Go away!" "Your sister?" the flaxen-haired Prince Joffrey asked to Sansa's direction. "And who're you, boy?" Joffrye sneered at Mycah. "M-Mycah, m'lord" he stuttered. "He's the butcher's boy" "He's my friend!" she retorted back at Sansa.

"A butcher's boy who want's to be a knight, eh? Pick up your sword, butcher's boy. Let's see just how good you are" Joffrey sneered. "She asked me to m'lord! She asked me to!" Mycah said, looking very worried. "I'm your prince. Not your lord. Now, I command you to pick up your sword!" Joffrey said, sporting and ugly and cruel smirk on his face. "It's not a sword, my prince. Its only a stick ..." "And you're not a knight! Only a butcher's boy" He sadistically crooned.

"OY! JOFFY!" someone called out. It was Daven the Silent. "Do. Not. Call me that!" Joffrey growled like the dog that protected him. "Sorry, coz. I came to inform you of your brother's return from the Wall. What's going on?" He asked, turning his attention to her and Mycah. "I'm teaching this urchin a lesson. He dares to strike a lady" Joffrey sneered his ugly sneer again. "Stop it!" she cried out. "Don't worry, I won't be hurting him. Much" Joffrey than began to press the cold edge of his blade onto Mycah's cheek and then it began to bleed out.

Without a moment's notice, she raised up her stick and smacked him on the back of his neck. "YOU FILTHY LITTLE BITCH!" he growled out. Joffrey then began to swing his sword wildly and violently as possible. Daven and Sansa kept calling out to them to stop the fighting. Suddenly, she fell to the ground and his sword was nearing her throat. "I'LL GUT YOU, YOU LITTLE CUNT!" Daven tried to intervene but Nymeria came then and snapped her teeth right onto the prick prince's arm. As she got Nymeria off Joffrey, she took hold of his sword and took notice of him. He was suddenly groaning and cowering like the person he truly was. "NO! No, please, don't ..."

Instead, Daven came again, taking the sword off of her hand and she then began to ran off. It broke Arya's heart what she had to do she left she heard Daven say something to Joffrey, but couldn't quite make it out. She knew that her beloved direwolf would be killed for what she did to Joffrey and so she was forced to send Nymeria away. Her wolf didn't understand initially until Arya threw rocks at her and Arya didn't hold back the tears when Nymeria ran away into the wild. Not only had she lost her beloved direwolf but she had put Mycah in terrible danger and if anything happened to him then it would be her fault.

* * *

It had been four days since then and Arya was cold and starving. She managed to find some berries here and there but overall she knew that she couldn't last like this. Over the course of the four days, Arya had heard many men looking for her but she avoided them. She had after all attacked the prince and she was worried about what would happen if the wrong people found her. Arya quietly moved past a large tree and she headed over towards another but this one had much more branches which she hoped that she could climb and see if she saw anyone that she recognize.

Unfortunately thanks to her fatigue and hunger, she didn't pay enough attention and she tripped on a tree root and she tumbled down a small hill.

"Ouch," Arya muttered painfully, "that hurt."

Her eyes widened however when she heard approaching footsteps and she jumped swiftly back onto her feet.

"Arya?!" a familiar boy found her, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and concern.

"Raymont," Arya muttered shyly, "hello." And he wasn't alone. Gendry and Jon were right behind him.

"Do you know how worried I'v – your father has been?!" Her cousin demanded angrily. "Come with me, he will be most relieved to see you."

"Okay." Arya conceded and she walked ahead of him. She understood why Gendry insisted that she walk in front of him; she wouldn't be able to sneak off.

"For the last four days, I have had to listen to my shitty brother bitch about what happened." Gendry told her and she could hear the irritation in his voice, "Why don't you tell me what really happened." It wasn't a request, Arya knew.

So Arya explained her side of the story to the young prince. How she was practicing with Mycah, why she attacked Joffrey and Nymeria's involvement.

"So you're telling me that Joffrey threatened the butcher's boy and you attacked him in order to protect the boy. Then Joffrey tried to slice you with his sword and Nymeria defended you by biting his arm?" Gendry asked her and she nodded. "Well, it is more believable than the story that Joffrey has been whining about."

"Then, do you believe me?!" Arya asked him hopefully.

"It's not so much that I believe that you're telling the truth, I don't know you well enough yet to figure out when you're lying and when you're not." Gendry told her, "However I know my younger brother and he is not only a liar, but a shitty liar."

"We're almost back at the camp," Jon informed her, "I will take you to father first, and then we will get this whole mess straightened out."

Arya nodded but she didn't say anything. The group of them walked in silence for a few moments before until they saw the camp up ahead and two guards approach them. They both had the red and yellow armour on and Arya knew that from the colours, they were Lannister men.

"I see that you have found the girl, Prince Gendry." One of the guards complimented.

"The Queen has told us to bring the girl to her and the King immediately." The other grunted.

"First of all, this 'girl' is Lady Arya Stark, too you. Remember your place." Raymont retorted coolly. "Second of all, go back and tell the king and queen that they can see her soon, after I have taken her to her Lord Stark."

"Apologies but Your Grace has –"  
"Enough! I will deal with their protests! Now be gone!" Gendry snapped at them and the two guards immediately departed.

"That was a little mean." Arya pointed out.

Gendry shrugged, "They lost the right of my patience when they didn't address you properly. Knights... they strut around like their kings in Kings Landing. They're no different. They think they can treat everyone that doesn't have the name Lannister like their dirt."

"If you say so." Arya muttered. She didn't really understand since the people in that served Winterfell were respected by her family.

It didn't take them long to reach her father's tent and she followed Jon in. Her father was pacing in the tent and when they entered his head whipped towards them. Arya saw his eyes widen when he saw her and she cried out. She charged straight towards her father and he went to one knee and took her in his arms.

She was shaking, she couldn't help it but she did feel safer in her father's arms.

"I'm sorry," Arya sobbed, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"I know," Her father said comfortingly, "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm hungry though. I ate some berries, but there was nothing else." Arya confessed.

"We'll feed you soon enough," Her father promised and he released her. Arya watched her father look up at Raymont, "Did you find her?"

Jon nodded, "Unfortunately some of the queen's guards found us before we could get here and so she will want to see Arya at any moment now."

Arya's father sighed and he nodded wearily, "I figured so, I thank you though for bringing her straight to me."

"It's no problem." Raymont shrugged the gratefulness off uncomfortably. Arya wondered if he was uncomfortable in the presence of her father because he would be his father-in-law in a few years. A disgusting thought flashed in her mind, suddenly she realised that she would have King Robert Baratheon as a father-in-law. She repressed a shudder.

"Excuse me, Lord Stark," Jory entered the tent apologetically, "but the Queen's men are here ordering for you and Lady Arya to come before the King immediately."

Arya tensed up and she felt her father take her hand in his and she received a comforting squeeze. Raymont gave her a reassuring smile.

"Aye, I suppose we better get his done." Her father declared. Arya looked around the very crowded chamber with a hint of nerves. She knew that she had done nothing wrong and that she had her father and Raymont on her side, but she couldn't help the nervous butterflies in her stomach. King Robert was slumped in the high seat at the far end of the room; his face was closed and sullen. Queen Cersei Lannister and Joffrey stood to King Robert's left. The queen had her hand on Joffrey's shoulder and Arya noticed that he had thick silken bandages covering his wounded arm. Looking around everyone was tense and many of the Lannister guards were giving her scornful looks but Arya was surprised to see that Gendry was the only one that looked relaxed. Gendry stood to King Robert's right with his hands in his pockets and when he made eye contact with her, he gave her a wink. The nerves in her stomach settled a bit. Arya noticed that Daven was standing at the back of the room and Arya received a sympathetic look from him.

"I am sorry, Ned." King Robert said gruffly, "I didn't want to bring her here so quickly after you were both reunited but it seemed best to bring you both here and get this business done with quickly."

"And what business is that?" Her father said with ice in his voice.

Arya watched with trepidation as the queen stepped forward, "You know full well, Lord Stark. This girl of yours attacked my son, her and her butcher's boy. That animal of hers tried to tear his arm off."

"That's not true!" Arya retorted loudly. "She just bit him a little." She noticed Osbert grin slightly when she said that, but she didn't let it distract her and she continued, "He was hurting Mycah!"

"Joff told us what happened," the queen said icily, "you and the butcher boy beat him with clubs and then you set your wolf on him."

"That's not how it was!" Arya yelled, close to tears. Her father put a hand on her shoulder.

"Yes it is!" Prince Joffrey insisted. "They all attacked me, and Auric had taken Lion's Tooth from me"

Daven couldn't help but snort quietly but King Robert and the queen both heard him and they silenced him with a look.

"Liar!" Arya yelled angrily.

"Shut up!" the prince shouted back.

"Enough!" The king roared, rising from his seat, his voice thick with impatience. Silence fell throughout the chamber, Arya breathed in and out heavily, glaring furiously at the crowned prince before she looked over at the king. King Robert glowered at Arya through his thick beard. "Now, child, you will tell me what happened. Tell it all, and tell it true. It is a great crime to lie to a king." Then King Robert looked over at his heir. "When she is done, you will have your turn. Until then, hold your tongue."

Joffrey clamped his mouth shut tightly.

Arya looked him dead in the eye and without blinking or breaking eye contact, she recounted what happened. When she got to the part where she threw Joffrey's sword into the middle of the Trident, Renly Baratheon – who had joined up with them during their journey with Ser Barristan – began to laugh. Gendry's cousin, Robard, couldn't hold back a chuckle either and King Robert bristled. "Ser Barristan, escort my brother and my nephew from the hall before they choke."

Lord Renly muffled his laughter, "My brother is too kind. I can find the door myself." He then bowed to Joffrey, "Perchance later you'll tell me how a twelve year old girl, the size of a wet rat, managed to disarm you with a broom handle and throw your sword in the river." As the door swung shut behind him, Arya heard him say, "Lion's Tooth," and guffaw once more. However what Arya found strange was the glare that Robard gave his uncle on his way out. Lord Renly didn't seem to notice.

"I apologise uncle." Robard bowed to him, "I lost my composure for a moment. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." Robert growled.

Prince Joffrey was pale as he began his very different version of events and unlike her, he didn't make eye contact with King Robert. When Joffrey was done talking, the king rose heavily from his seat, looking like a man who wanted to be anywhere but here. "What in all the seven hells am I supposed to make of this? He says one thing, she says another."

"Sansa knows the truth," Her father informed the king, "she will tell us what happened."

Arya saw her sister enter the chamber dressed in blue velvets trimmed with white, a silver chain around her neck. Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone. She blinked at her, and then at the young prince.

_Don't you dare take his side_, Arya thought furiously, tears building in her eyes._ 'I'm your sister!'_ Arya declared in her mind, surely despite their differences, Sansa wouldn't lie for the crowned prince. She didn't think that she could ever forgive her sister if she did.

"I don't know," Sansa confessed tearfully, looking as though she wanted to bolt. "I don't remember. Everything happened so fast, I didn't see..."

"Liar!" Arya shrieked. It wasn't a full betrayal but at the same time, Arya was furious that she took the cowards way out and pretended not to see. She flew at her sister like an arrow, knocking Sansa down to the ground, and she began pummeling her. "Liar, liar, liar, liar!"

"Arya, stop it!" Her father shouted. Jory pulled her off her sister, kicking. Sansa was pale and shaking as their father lifted her back to her feet. "Are you hurt?" Arya heard her father ask, but she was staring into Arya's betrayed eyes, and she did not seem to hear. Gendry slapped his forehead in exasperation.

"The girl is as wild as that filthy animal of hers," Cersei Lannister declared triumphantly, "Robert, I want her punished."

"Seven hells," King Robert swore, "Cersei, look at her. She's a young girl, what would you have me do, whip her through the streets?! Damn it, children fight. It's over. No lasting harm was done."

Arya sighed in relief and Gendry released a smile at his father's decision.

The queen was furious, "Joffrey will carry these scars for the rest of his life."

The King looked at his eldest son in disappointment, "So he will and perhaps they will teach him a lesson about getting disarmed by an untrained twelve year old girl!" King Robert snapped before he focused back on her father, "Ned, see that your daughter is disciplined. I will do the same with my son."

"Gladly, Your Grace." Her father said with vast relief.

King Robert got off his chair and he started to walk away and Gendry gave Arya a quick thumbs up, but the queen was not done. "And what of the direwolf?" she called after him. "What of the beast that savaged your son?"

The king stopped, turned back with a fierce frown and Arya felt her heart leap to her throat. "I'd forgotten about the damned wolf." King Robert grumbled.

Thankfully Arya's racing heart calmed down when Jory spoke up quickly, "We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace."

King Robert surprised Arya when he shrugged indifferently, "No? So be it."

The queen, wouldn't be ignored it seemed and she raised her voice, "I will give a hundred golden dragons to the man who brings me its skin!"

"A costly-ass pelt," King Robert groaned. "I want no part of this, woman. You can damn well buy your furs with Lannister gold."

The queen regarded him coolly. "I had not thought you so measly. The king I'd thought to wed would have laid a wolf skin across my bed before the sun went down."

Arya glared at the queen, hatred welling up in her and at the corner of her eye she saw Gendry looking at his mother and father with narrowed eyes. The once relaxed prince was suddenly tense and nervous.

"That would be a fine trick, without a wolf." King Robert retorted.

Arya then looked up at her father and saw that he was also looking tense and weary. Fear began to grip her heart.

"We have wolves." The queen said quietly but viciously.

Arya didn't understand what she was getting at but she knew that it was bad when Gendry began glaring furiously at his mother and brother. Joffrey suddenly had a cruel grin on his face.

"As you will, have Ser Ilyn see to it." King Robert shrugged impatiently.

"Robert, you cannot mean this!" Her father protested desperately.

The king seemed to be in no mood to deal with this anymore, "Enough, Ned, I will hear no more. A direwolf is a savage beast. Sooner or later they would have turned on your children the same way the other did on my son. Get 'em dogs, they'll be happier for it."

That was when Sansa finally seemed to comprehend. Her eyes were frightened as they went to her father. "He doesn't mean Lady, does he?" Arya understood now what was happening and she hoped that her father could stop it but considering the shattered look on Sansa's face when she looked at father, it didn't inspire confidence. Jon, who had come amongst the crowd a minute ago, began to realize what the Queen was talking about and began to tense up. "Ghost was with me the whole time!"

"No," Sansa cried, "No, not Lady, Lady didn't bite anybody, she's good..."

"Lady nor Ghost were there," Arya shouted angrily. "You leave them alone!"

"Stop them," Sansa pleaded, "don't let them do it, please, please, it wasn't Lady, it was Nymeria! Arya did it, you can't! It wasn't Lady, don't let them hurt Lady, I'll make her be good, I promise, I promise..." Sansa started to cry. Jon looked more somber and tense, lowering his head

Father took her in his arms and he held Sansa as she wept. Arya glowered up at her sister, if she had just told the truth, then Lady nor Ghost wouldn't be in this situation.

"Please, Robert. For the love you bear me. For the love you bore my sister. Please." Her father pleaded with his supposed best friend.

Arya saw King Robert make eye contact with her father and there seemed to be an apologetic look on the fat king's face but she couldn't tell. He then turned his eyes on the queen. "Damn you, Cersei."

Her father gently disengaged himself from Sansa's grasp. "Do it yourself then, Robert," he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. "At least have the courage to do it yourself."

Robert looked at Ned with flat, dead eyes and Arya knew that he would be no help and she looked desperately at Gendry. Their eyes locked onto each other for what seemed like an eternity before he nodded. Arya hoped that it was a good sign.

King Robert turned around and headed towards the exit of the room and Arya's father looked despondent.

"That's enough!"

King Robert froze and murmurs began to rise up in the chambers. King Robert turned around and gazed heatedly on the person that had spoken up along with everyone else in the chamber.

The person that everyone's focus was now on was Gendry and Arya had never seen him like this. She hadn't even seen him angry yet but the look on his face was more than just anger. He was pissed as hell. It was a little intimidating and Arya was glad that he was on her side in this situation.

"This farce has gone on long enough, I think!" Gendry growled and he looked at Joffrey, "Wipe that stupid look of your face! You're in line to be king, grow the hell up! Whining like a spoiled brat at such a soft injury! Man the fuck up! You have done nothing but embarrass our family over the past few days!"

Joffrey flinched and the Queen was about to speak up but Arya was amazed when Gendry silenced her with a look. She watched as he then exploded on his father, "You're just going to walk away and let innocent creatures be killed! There is a simple solution to all of this and I am sure that most people in this room can see it! But for some reason you are too afraid to use it! When did the great King Robert Baratheon become a coward?!"

"Watch what you say to me, boy!" the king roared with his face red with anger.

Gendry scoffed, "If you're too afraid to suggest it then I will. Our families are going to be joined in the next few years and this isn't helping the relationship between us all! Lord Stark, should the direwolf were to be killed, what would you do with the skin?"

Arya was confused where he was going with this and her father answered emotionlessly, "Her skin will be taken back to Winterfell by my men to be buried. She deserves more than a butcher."

"If that is the case, then wouldn't it make sense for those men to simply escort the direwolf alive back to Winterfell?" Gendry asked no one in particular, "It has been four days since the other direwolf vanished, it will be long gone by now. There is no point in sending anyone after it. It would be a waste of resources. If Lady Sansa's direwolf is back in Winterfell then my mother wouldn't have to worry about the safety of her children and there would be no innocent blood spilt. And I can vouch for the other direwolf. It had been in my company along with its owner when we returned"

Arya smiled in relief and she saw that he father approved of the decision. Daven was at the back with a fond grin on his face. Sansa seemed to be in three minds, relieved that her direwolf wouldn't be killed, saddened that Lady would have to go back to Winterfell, and jealous that Ghost would be able to have Ghost beside him.

"The boy speaks sense," King Robert said in relief, no Arya had to be imagining it. There was no way in her mind that the king would be relieved of this. "Ned, see that it is done."

Her father nodded, "I'll see to it at once, Your Grace."

Arya looked over at the boy that she had to marry in a few years and suddenly she felt a bit more comfortable about the idea of having Gendry as part of her family, although if she had a choice she would still choose no marriage at all. However it wasn't Gendry that she was worried about anymore, but it was the fact that Sansa would have to be married into the family that contained the queen and Joffrey in it.

Speaking of the two people that she had come to hate, Arya looked over at them and saw that Joffrey was looking furious at what just happen and the blonde haired prince glared heatedly at Steffon. However it was the queen's reaction that made Arya believed that she wasn't at her sharpest and that her fatigue and hunger were starting to have severe affects on her. What made her believe this was the way that the queen was looking at her second born son. There was no way that she had seen a flicker of pride in her eyes as she gazed at Gendry. No way

_**Just like to clarify a couple of things:**_

_**1\. In canon, Denys is Jon Arryn's distant cousin, and was named an Arryn heir because he wed the eldest daughter of his sister Alys. And Jon Arryn had two wives who died prior to marrying Lysa. Here, Denys is Jon's own son and heir after Elbert Arryn through his marriage to Rowena Royce who ultimately died from a chill shortly after Denys' birth. (Mixed in the names of his two wives along with their cause of deaths)**_

_**2\. First off, Sansa lying to the King and Queen about Nymeria is just the simple matter of not wanting to end her betrothal to Gendry. Fearing that it will be ended if she insults the heir presumptive to the throne, her betrothal may end.**_

_**3\. Edwyle and Cregard Mormont are the only children of Jorah Mormont produced from his first marriage to Morya Glover (made-up the name). Due to their father's actions with Lynesse Hightower, they are quite ashamed of him.**_

_**3\. Edric Storm will appear eventually and will have a critical role. Unfortunately, his parentage is reversed. In canon, Edric is the product of Robert and Delena Florent. Here, his mother is instead Selyse, who got married off to Hosman Norcross after being soiled.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**299 AC**

**Denys**

Damn. He hadn't seen Ned in ages. Gods, he looks older than before. "Ned." he uttered. Ned then pulled him into a warm embrace. "Denys. How are you?" his old friend asked. One thing was certain; he hated being bedridden. He was the Darling of the Vale, a tourney champion and a refined warrior and battle commander. "Fine. For the most part. I should be back on my feet in no time. I heard that Renly has taken up my position as Master of Laws." "He has. Den, how can you and Jon stand this place? I'm surrounded by vipers in this snake pit." Denys understood this very well. He remembered when he first came to King's Landing. He thought to himself _How could a king live in a place that looks and smells of shit?_

"I heard about the tournament Robert is having for you." Denys said. Ned sighed immensely. He clearly wanted no part in it. "Such a heavy expense and yet Robert insisted." "Yup. My father and I could only put up with Robert's large appetite for long. There was not much we could do anyway." Denys explained. "I'll have to head off to the Vale with my boys. Still can't believe that Lysa simply left me here." Denys said. Ned looked at him somberly. "She seemed like a good woman." Ned said. "Oh, aye. For the most part. But she's been mad as of late. When I sent Raymont to Dorne and Osbert to the Riverlands to foster, she kept screaming at me and then wept for days. Made me wish that Ursula was still my wife." Denys said. "Had you made plans for your youngest to be fostered?" "I did. Me and my father believed in sending him to Dragonstone with Stannis. All she does is coddle the boy day in and day out. When he and I told her, oy, she looked like she would have cut me cock off the next time we lied together in bed." Denys said. He and his old friend than begin to laugh lightly.

"How has Elbert been?" Ned asked. "Gods, I've been meaning to write to him. He's fine, not the same like any man would be after war. Elbert was little more than a child. Barely older then your brother Benjen. Lost his father in the war. Nearly lost his arm. His pretty Tyrell bride brought him some joy though. Father was hesitant in doing so but Elbert was a man grown and was already betrothed to her. She was already besotted with the Great Falcon. Got himself a family as big as yours." Denys said. Denys then put on a rather grim face.

"Ned. I heard that you have brought the boy. He's in a worse position than you. Why would you bring him here?"  
"The prince insisted. Said that Jon would make a great edition to the Kingsguard"  
"Frankly, he would. Watch out for him. King's Landing is no place for either of you."  
"It's all strange. Denys, what was Jon looking into?"  
"I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. The last thing he said though was 'the ..."  
"'seed is strong'. Yes. Den, tell me. Do you believe Jon died of natural causes?"  
"No. I don't think so." Denys said, treading lightly  
Ned than cocked his left eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"  
"There was nothing wrong with him. Healthy men don't just die."

**Sansa**

Sansa was getting annoyed by the noise her sister was making. **THNK**. **THNK**. **THNK**. She kept on banging the knife against the table. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked, exasperated. "Practicing." she replied. "For what?" "For what I'm going to do to Prince Joffrey. He killed Mycah!" Arya said. "The Hound killed your friend, no the prince!" "The Hound does whatever Joffrey commands, stupid. And if you hadn't lied, he'd still be alive." Arya shouted.

"What's all this then?" her father said as he came down. "Arya would much rather behave like a beast than a lady." Septa Mordane said. Arya then left and Sansa did to. Just as she did, she saw Prince Gendry and another boy with a mop of messy black hair walking toward her. She wants to hate him for sending Lady away but she simply can't. "Lady Sansa?" Gendry said to her, soft as the wind. "Would you walk with me? I was hoping to see how your brother's training was progressing." Gendry asked. Sansa nodded and walked with the two boys. "Oh, where are my manners. Sansa, this is my squire, Podrick Payne." Gendry introduced the boy to her. He nodded curtly. It was nearly impossibly to believe that this boy was related to the King's Justice, Illyn Payne.

"How are you faring in King's Landing?" Gendry asked. "The Capital is very beautiful, my prince." Sansa uttered. "Do you get along with your siblings?" He asked. Sansa thought for a moment. "My little brother is a very wild boy but very sweet and clever. He cried fiercely when I had to leave. Bran was always a sweet boy. It pained me to leave him like that. Robb is often at times, annoying, but nevertheless a good brother." Sansa said. "What about Arya and Jon?" Gendry then asked. "Arya is such a beast at times. She's anything but a lady!" Sansa exclaimed. Gendry suddenly began to laugh. "Frankly, that is what makes her quite interesting. A lady who doesn't want to be a lady." Sansa then found herself giggling at the sound of that prospect. "Jon. I never really tried to get along with him. He's a bastard." Sansa said.

"And?" Gendry said. Sansa was confused, she didn't know how to respond. "Well, I guess I never really talked with him. He's often in the training grounds or in his chambers." Sansa said meekly. "We're all made of flesh and bone, Lady Sansa. The simple matter of a name doesn't change anything. Frankly, I get along better with my brother Edric than I do Joffrey." Sansa was more confused now. Edric? His only brothers were Joffrey and little Tommen. "My father had others. Other children. Other children with other woman that weren't my mother" Gendry gritted out painfully. Sansa was not completely taken aback. She had seen how the King acted during the feast at Winterfell. Gendry didn't seem like that at all. The mere mention of his father siring numerous children with numerous woman seemed to make him uncomfortable.

"Is Edric one of your father's bastards?" Sansa asked. "He may be a Storm but he's a very kind and courteous lad. Trains on end to be a knight like our father. I've met him once and we often write to one another. He hopes to one day wield a warhammer like our father once could. I've also met my sister Mya when I went to the Vale once. She doesn't know though. She's a very beautiful young woman." Gendry said. It seemed strange that he would get along better with his father's bastard over his own brother. But then again, Jon and Robb have always had each other's backs. Was that how it was like for them?

"Also, Lady Sansa. I'm very sorry. For having to send away your wolf. I was simply trying to do what was best for everyone." Gendry said. The tales were right. Honest to a fault. "I'll never do anything like that again. Your to be my lady, and I'm to be yours" Gendry said and then gave her a light kiss on her lips. ti was the kiss she had always dreamed of. A small chaste kiss a knight gives to his lady. He then left out a soft good-bye and left. Gods, she wanted that kiss to be longer.

**Jon**

He couldn't believe it. He was actually training under the legendary Barristan the Bold. "C'mon, lad. Actually try to strike me down!" Ser Barristan cried out good-heartily. He then swung harder; adding a great deal of power in his strikes as well as a bit of finesse. "Very good. But remember to parry. In an actual fight, you gamble your life as well. Again!" Barristan said. Jon continued to attack and tried to remember to parry but couldn't out of the excitement of it. He felt truly challenged and felt very much like a knight braving into battle. Jon nearly tripped and Barristan exploited that and he fell. "Remember your footing!" Barristan scolded.

Several squires then looked at him. The same ones as before: Lancel Lannister, Lorent Leffod and Tyrek Lannister. Lancel began to laugh loudly. Lancel reminded him much of the Kingslayer. _Not quite so tall, his features not so fine, and his hair is sand instead of spun gold._ He thought. "Don't expect much from a bastard. Let alone Stark's Bastard!" Lancel laughed. His cousin Lorent followed while Tyrek simply looked at him. "Leave him be. Not all of us have the pleasure of being trained by a legendary Kingsguard. And he certainly did better than most of the squires here." Tyrek said. He was a strange one who reminded him much like the Imp. Perhaps he's one other honorable Lannister he could be friends with.

"You want to marry the bastard, Tyrek?" Lancel and Lorent laughed. "Alt least I'm not betrothed to a babe. Lorent, has your wife been weaned yet?" Tyrek taunted. The other squires soon followed. Before Lancel or Lorent could do anything, a voice suddenly called out to him. "Why don't you challenge him then, Lancel? Or are you scared?" It was Prince Gendry. Lancel was caught off guard and began to stutter. Gendry then pushed Lancel in front of Jon. "Go on. Let's see the skill of Lancel the Great. Or should we call you Lancel the Lackwit?" Gendry taunted. The squires proceeded to laugh once more. "FINE!" Lancel screamed.

He then entered the training grounds with him, sword at the ready. Barristan then gave the signal and their battle commenced. Lancel simply charged at him with a very wild swing which he had been able to block. Swing after another swing. Jon was now able to fully understand what Ser Barristan meant. Jon then swung at Lancel's left side and then made a full circle to his right, knocking down the arrogant squire to the floor. He then placed the edge of the blade near his throat. "YIELD! I YIELD! NO MORE." Lancel screamed. Tyrek then shouted "Perhaps you should take up needlework, cousin!" Lancel then left in a huff.

Gendry then came up to them both. "Ser Barristan. How fares your newest trainee?" "A fine lad. You were right. He has his father's sense of honor and very good skill with a blade. Jon will make a fine addition to the Kingsguard. Your talents would be wasted at the Watch." Barristan said to him. He felt himself blushing and gleaming with pride at the words of Barristan the Bold. "Care to participate in the tourney, Jon?" Gendry asked. "What tourney?" "The tourney that my father is so desperate to have for your father." Gendry said. "I"m not sure." Jon said uncertainly. "You could go as a mystery knight. We'd just need to find the right armor for you." Gendry said. "But I thought that bastards weren't allowed to participate in tourneys." Jon said. "What did I say to you before, Jon. Don't let that get to you." Gendry said.

"Besides, the Arryn boys are participating as well. Why not you?" Gendry said.

**Barristan**

Y_es. He looks very much like him but with all Northern features._ Looking at him, he doubted that the boy could truly be Eddard Stark's bastard.

**Sansa**

She was excited about the tourney. She hated to admit that the Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell, was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. Raymont and Osbert were shocked to their core as they saw Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, pierced the throat of their grandfather's squire, Ser Hugh of the Vale. Ray and Osbert had quickly lost to Barristan the Bold. Gendry was wearing his prized bull's head helmet and defeated the Hound. Ser Loras Tyrell had already unseated Meryn Trant and Boros Blout and finally Ser Robar Royce. He was now to face the Mountain, Gods, she didn't want him to get hurt. Naturally, Loras had bested the dreaded Mountain.

"That was quite crafty of Loras, using a mare in heat." Lord Petyr Baelish said. "Ser Loras would never do that. There's no honor in tricks." She retorted. "No honor, but quite a bit of gold." he added. Suddenly, the Mountain swung his giant greatsword and had sliced off the head of his horse and made his way to the Knight of the Flowers. Gods, this is terrifying. Suddenly, the Hound came to the aid of Ser Loras and was figthing his dreadful brother. Suddenly, the king had boomed "STOP THIS MADNESS IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!" The Mountain quickly left in a huff. Ser Loras then thanked the Hound for having saved him but the Hound had simply replied "I'm not a fucking Ser."

The tourney continued on. Now Gendry had to face Loras. Gods, this was hard. Gendry looked very much like a knight with his armor and own crafted bull's head helmet. And Loras was looking ever so splendid. Both raised up their lances but narrowly missed. They then came around once more but Gendry pointed it side-face instead, knocking Loras off his horse. Everyone cheered on and Sansa cheered loudest. Prince Gendry was then given a wreath filled with flowers and ridden his horse toward her. She had never felt more excited. He then gently placed the crown of flowers on her head and gave her a small peck on the cheek. "To the Queen of Love and Beauty!"

**Arya**

Her dancing lessons had gone on longer than before. She was just glad that she was able to show up for the rest of the tourney. Her sister seemed excited that Prince Gendry crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty. Gods, she wouldn't shut up about it. She had hoped to see Prince Gendry in the archery competition but he wasn't present. Neither was Jon. The only reason she came to the tournament was because she heard a rumour among her father's men that Jon would be participating in the tourney.

The archers were amazing. Ser Balon may have been one of the most skilled archers seen after herself and Theon. But then Anguy of the Dornish Marchers really impressed her. She had never seen that level of skills with a bow and arrow.

Now came the melee. Over forty people participated in it and looked very dangerous. Gendry really gave it his all as he fought Thoros of Myr and his sword of flames. His horse wasn't even afraid. But eventually, Thoros had swung at Gendry's breastplate and effectively knocked down the Blacksmith Prince. Now, all was left between Thoros and a mystery knight. The knight had on scale armor and wore no cape and the knight's helm didn't have a visor so no one couldn't see his face. He was an excellent rider and swordsman, wielding his sword with immense grace and skill. Finally, the knight had struck Thoros' breastplate with the flat of his sword, knocking him out.

King Robert than came up to the mystery knight to award him the prize but the knight didn't accept. He then removed his helm, or at least tried to. It appeared to have gotten stuck. "Um. Gendry? Could you assist me?" said the knight. The rumours were true. Gendry then helped Jon remove his helm. He looked happy and ragged. He loved it. Arya screamed as wildly as the audience. Sansa clapped loudly and her father did too. But something was strange. He had the most worrisome expression on his face. Like someone was going to kill Jon. Was he worried that he was going to fight the Mountain? No, that couldn't be it.


	7. Chapter 7

**299 AC**

**Ned**

"I was told that those nephews of yours stood over him for hours on end." Ser Barristan told Ned in a gravelly, sad voice. "I had come to see how the Silent Sisters had prepared him and stand vigil for the boy if necessary. You can imagine my surprise when I heard that the Lords Arryn had sent them away. Told them that he would wipe the blood away himself before they could care for his knight."

"They feel responsible." Ned knew his nephews, and thus understood why Raymont and Osbert had acted as they did. "They were supposed to go back to the Eyrie after the Trident, but instead decided to return to the capital with us. They worried over their cousins, and it led one of their men in the grave." Ned remembered Hugh's plain face from their travels to the capital. He often spoke to Raymont in particular of winning the tournament to honor Jon Arryn. "This one had been particularly boastful about wanting to compete. Look where it brought him."

"Knight's die, Lord Eddard. It is a fact." Ned looked at Ser Barristan. _He has aged since that day on the Trident._ The man was old now, one of the last remaining members of Aerys Targaryen's Kingsguard, the greatest of Robert's own. "Some of us don't get to die in the way that we want, but we understand it to be a risk that comes with the knighthood."

"This boy though." Ned looked upon Ser Hugh with sadness. He had been told that the boy had a mother in the Vale. What she would think when her son, still so young, was brought back to her dead? "He was far too young."

"For knighthood, Lord Stark?"

"For death." Ned covered the boy, who had been dressed in a fine blue tunic, sliver crescent moons lining some areas. The tunic had a high collar to hide where the Mountain's lance had pierced his throat. _Was he killed because of me? _"Did my nephews decree what would become of his vassal?"

"Raymont had said something about taking him back aboard the ship tomorrow, when he and Lord Royce were to return to the Eyrie."

"Another fine decision. That boy grows more like Jon every day."

"You must be proud." Ser Barristan wore a soft smile on his face.

"The boys had impressed me to a great degree since their arrival in Winterfell." Ned thought about how Ray and Osbert had grown. Once boys who had been smaller than Ned's own daughter, they were approaching manhood at the same pace as his son Robb. _So much change in these years. _The thought made Ned feel older than he cared to admit. He knew Jon would be proud of his eldest grandchild. He is so much like him in his youth and his spirit.

Ned and Ser Barristan began to leave the body where it lay, the two of them heading towards the King's pavilion. It was said that Robert had caused a scene with his wife at dinner the night previous about wanting to fight in the melee. Ned wanted to hear for himself why Robert thought this to be a good idea. But as they crossed the yard, they came in contact with Yohn Royce, the bannerman that had sailed to King's Landing to have his sons participate in the tournament, as well as serve as the escort for the rest of the Arryns back to the Eyrie. "Lord Stark, Ser Barristan."

"Lord Royce." Ned shook the man's hand, noticing the ever graying hair on Royce's lined face and head. The man also had the most peculiar set of eyebrows. "I hear that you have spoken to my nephews."

"Yes, terrible thing to happen. But the boys seems to be taking it better than he had yesterday." Yohn Royce pointed towards the stands, where Ned saw his nephews conversing with their cousins and Jon. "Boys wouldn't speak while they were standing over the fallen knight. Quite grim."

"Indeed. The boys has been facing the issue of death more than most recently." Ned could see that Raymont was wearing a public face as Eddard had asked him to, concealing what would have been scathing looks that would have likely been aimed at Joffrey, the Mountain, and anyone that cheered for them. It was clear that he hated the Lannisters like his life depended on it. "Nonetheless, I am happy that you shall be returning him to the Eyrie."

"I had actually planned on staying a bit longer in the capital. His Grace has told me of a hunt that he was planning in the near future, and mentioned he would like for me to be along with him. My sons shall accompany Lord Denys Arryn and his own back to the Eyrie, and swear House Royce's loyalty in my stead."

"Very well then." Ned became a bit more apprehensive at the prospects of his friend and nephews sailing back if he was not going to be in the company of Bronze Yohn, but he had heard that his two sons were effective enough swordsman. They would do in protecting his nephew. "Now if you will excuse us, Lord Royce, we have to speak with the King." Royce bowed before Ned and Ser Barristan walked off to find the king once more.

**Gendry**

He'd been called into small council meetings before, but the fact that his father would actually attend means something must be dire. "You summoned me father?"

"Yes, I want you to speak sense to this honorable fool," roared his father gesturing at Ned. "What all of this about?", asked Gendry.

"The Targaryen whore is pregnant," Robert growled.

Gendry realized that this was about Daenerys. "And?" Gendry asked wondering what the point was. He knew that his father hated just for being Targaryen. Inwardly he disapproved thinking it was unnecessary.

Robert looked at his son incredulously, believing that his son would see the seriousness of the situation. "And, we need to do something about her!"

"Such as?" Even though he asked Gendry already knew the answer. He just needed to hear it from his father.

It was at this time that Lord Stark cut in. "Your father intends to send an assassin to kill her, I've been trying to convince him not to go through with it, but as you can see Ser Barristan and I are alone in this matter."

Gendry nodded. "I agree, it's not a bright idea," he said simply.

As he looked around the table and saw his father, Baelish, Varys, Pycelle and Renly looking at him in stunned silence. Ned was also surprised at his bluntness while Barristan Selmy gave an approving nod.

"Not you too boy," the king sighed in exasperation. "Have you lost your senses?!." Robert asked in disbelief. "We need to get rid of her and her brother as well."

"We should of killed them years ago," Renly interjected.

Gendry rolled his eyes and spoke to his father. "I agree that Viserys must die, but to murder a pregnant woman is no less would be a dishonorable beyond measure."

"HONOR?" Robert roared. "I have Seven Kingdoms to rule. One king, Seven Kingdoms. Do you think honor keeps the peace son. No, it's fear, Fear and Blood."

"Fear and Blood?" Roland repeated incredulously. "Are we Baratheons or Targaryens? They believed that they could rule through fear and blood after the loss of their dragons. Now look what it brought them in the end. Exiled and near the brink of extinction."

Varys then spoke up, "I understand your misgiving my prince. I truly do. but sometimes we must do vile things for the good of the realm. Should the gods give Daenerys a son, the realm will bleed."

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly women the best thing to do is close your eyes and get it over with," Baelish spoke up. "Cut her throat and be done with it."

Gendry scoffed before rounding on him on him, "And risk angering Khal Drogo?" he asked. "No, as of now, he has no reason to come here. Should you murder Danaerys, he may very well sail here to avenge his wife and unborn child. Besides should your assassin fails, you will have a vengeful mother, and an angry Khal to join her." Robert took a long look at his son and slumped into his chair. "I had not considered that."

"He doesn't need to know," Pycelle countered. "Surely we can do it in a way where he doesn't find out it was us?" Gendry rolled his eyes, "Dothraki are reckless and skilled warriors, but they're far from stupid. No matter how well you hide it the truth always finds it's way into the light eventually."

Robert looked up at his son and said quietly. "So what is your wise advice boy, do nothing until the enemy is on our shores?"

Gendry shook his head. "Of course not, do you take me for an idiot?" He placed a finger on the map of Essos right where Vaes Dothrak was. "Our answer is in patience," he said calmly trailing his finger from Vaes Dothrak to Kings Landing before placing his finger to his chin in thought. "Leave her be for now, observe what they do and let them make the first move. He who makes the first move also makes the first mistake."

"And what if they decide to invade, what then?" Robert asked in wonder.

Gendry smiled and nodded. "Very well, for argument's sake, say that Viserys does invade with 40,000 Dothraki warriors. Do you know just how many ships they will need in order to transport such a force. At least 400 for the men alone, not including the ships needed for their horses. Because everyone knows, Dothraki can't live without them. There's also the provisions for the journey. All in all that is over 1,000 ships, filled with tens of thousands of sea sick Dothraki, and only 3 places that can provide that amount of ships: Braavos, Volantis, and Qarth. And I doubt any of them will be willing to waste precious resources helping a beggar king. We have at least 600 warships, if they do sail here, we will crush them in the sea and send them to the dark abyss."

Gendry stared down the council and was once again met with silence. No one could counter to his argument. They were losing and even Varys realized that. But he saw in their faces that they were indeed trying to think of something but it was no use. Even Robert gave up and slammed his fist in to the table causing some goblets too spill. "Fine", he growled reluctantly. "We'll do it your way and leave her be for now. But be warned boy, if she does come here and there is war it will be on your head."

"So be it", Gendry replied in acceptance. "I'll consider the Targaryens a threat, the moment they start assembling a fleet. When that happens, send an assassin." With that Gendry bowed and headed towards the door.

"Gendry," Lord Stark called out. His voice snapped the young royal back into reality and turned his head towards him.

"Lord Stark," he replied curtly. "I want to thank you for helping your father see reason-" he began. but Gendry raised his hand and said. "Don't thank me yet, just because he has stayed his hand for now doesn't mean he hasn't given up on it. It is likely that he will try to find any excuse to kill Danaerys."

"You seemed to put a great deal of thought into what you said back there."

"My father has complained about them for as long as I can remember but I never shared my views on it until tonight. So I have had a great deal of time to think about them."

Ned nodded, but one thing puzzled him. "Has he called you into the council meeting before?"

Gendry shrugged. "Several times. Father may do foolish things sometimes but he is far from stupid. He knows not to trust any of them. I'm one of the few people here that he trusts because I'll speak hard and real truths instead of licking his boots. He tried to bring Joffrey into a meeting once or twice in an attempt to get him to learn about ruling. But he hardly paid attention to anything said."

He knew as much as anyone that Ned didn't like the idea of Joffrey on the throne. Thinking about it himself made his spine cringe. "Thank you again Gendry," he said before continuing on his way. Gendry nodded and turned his attention back to Stannis' youngest, and said. "I defended you against my father today Danaerys Targaryen. I hope you don't make me regret my decision."

* * *

He had been glad that Auric decided not to leave along with his brothers. Raymont and Osbert were going to leave soon along with Lord Denys who he always thought of as an uncle. Auric was certainly one of his favorite relatives; not much of a talker but when he did you were almost bound to listen. As they made their way in the castle, they both overheard something.

"I'm getting better every day, Jon!"  
"I never thought Father would let you!"  
"Let me show you what I can do!"

"What's going on in here?" Gendry asked. There was Jon sword in hand and his sister Arya as well with a sword in her own hand. "Gendry. My sister was just showing me some dancing techniques" Jon said, although it sounded like he was lying. "Well, I'm personally a terrible dancer. But why do you need swords to do it?" Gendry asked. "Its Bravosi Water-Dancing!" Arya said excitedly. Auric and him simply smirked.

"Would you mind showing us?" Auric said, in a seemingly mocking voice. He then unsheathed his sword. Gendry was impressed by her. She was certainly no lady; with some proper training from another swordsman and this "water-dancer", she could be one of the greatest knights ever known.  
"She's strong, your sister" Gendry muttered to Jon.  
"Aye. She is." Jon said proudly as he watched the two younglings fight.

"Alright. Stop. Jon, I wanted to tell you something but first. I want to fight with you again. I want to see what Ser Barristan has shown you." Gendry said, unsheathing his sword. "You're not going to use that ax that's strapped to your back?" Jon asked, inquiring about the weapon. "Stormbreaker? No. It's one of the few valyrian steel axes made. Too good for you!" Gendry said, delivering a powerful swing as he unsheathed his sword. Jon then dodged and lunged at him. But Gendry quickly blocked it. It was clear that both of them were now of equal standing; Auric and Arya watching them intensely. Jon then struck Gendry in the shoulder with the flat of his sword and then swung wildly and powerfully to knock him down. But Gendry's own sword clashed with Jon's; having anticipated that. "Let's call that a draw. Barristan's right. You are worthy." Gendry said, smiling.

"Ready for what?" Arya asked. "For knighthood. Ser Barristan says that he wants to knight Jon himself. So, you might want to think on taking a name for yourself now, and maybe a sigil." Gendry said. Arya and Jon then smiled wildly and then hugged tightly. He had never seen such a display of sibling love. It reminded him so much of him, Tommen and Myrcella. He then found himself remembering how much times that he and Tommen would playfully spar or how he often chased Myrcella throughout the Red Keep and then proceed to tickle her. Something he knew he could never and would never have with his brother, Joffrey.

Gendry and Jon then proceeded to walk out of the training hall. "Do you keep to the Old Gods?" Gendry asked. "I do" Jon replied. "Well, there's at least one heart tree that I know of in the Godswood and the Kingswood. I'm certain that Ser Barristan won't mind. Have you thought about a sigil?" Gendry asked. Jon replied no. "Have you ever heard the tale of the Knight of the Laughing Tree?"

**Arya**

She could never have been more excited for Jon. She always knew that Jon was a skilled fighter, even more so than Robb. And now, he's actually being recognized for it and being properly knighted. Most of the Southron idiots will knight anybody who could hold a sword. She never felt more proud of him. Ghost seemed rather anxious for his master. Sansa, Gendry and her father came to attend. Father had been proud that Jon had not forsaken their Gods for a knighthood. Jon was concealing the sigil he had chosen to bear on his armor with a black cloth.

Ser Barristan than approached Jon as he knelt before the tree and him. He then raised up his sword and proceeded to lightly tap Jon on his right shoulder. a touch on the right shoulder with the blade. "In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave." The sword moves from right shoulder to left. "In the name of the Father I charge you to be just." Right shoulder. "In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent." The left. "In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women." "Jon, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and to such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?_" _Ser Barristan said. "I do, Ser Barristan." Jon said. Jon then removed the cloth and revealed the sigil he had taken; a laughing weirwood tree. "Then rise, Ser Jon of the **new** House Greystark; the Warrior of Winter!" She, Sansa and Gendry clapped loudly. But not her father. He clapped but it looked more formal than happy. Was he sad? No, he just kept staring at the sigil. Like some sort of demon was mocking him. She then saw a small tear escape from her father's eye.

**Ned**

Ned was proud of Jon. But who had told him that story? The prince? But how could he know? Still, Ned's mind kept pondering to the matters on what Jon Arryn had been investigating. What was it that Jon Arryn was murdered? Was it connected to Denys ailing and declining health? Just what did he stumble into? Why was he looking into Robert's bastards? Edric Storm, Mya Stone, baby Barra, Tobho Mott's new apprentice Colen. Why concern himself with them? Orys was certainly a strange one. An apprentice armorer for Tobho Mott that Gendry had recommended for him. He was a near exact copy of Gendry in every way with the exception of his eyes. Whereas Gendry's were a deep blue like the ocean or sapphires, Orys' were like that of fresh spring grass or emeralds. As he made his way to the Tower of the Hand, he heard shouting.

"Just leave him be, Arya!"  
"He's my friend!"  
"I'm supposed to be his Queen, not you!"  
"We wouldn't even be having this conversation if he were to be the Lord of Storm's End!"

"What's all the ruckus?" Ned asked. "Stupid Sansa thinks that I'm trying to take Prince Gendry from her!" Arya said. "You practically are! You've been spending as much time with him as much as I!" Sansa exclaimed. "I don't like him that way! He's been a good friend to me! The one other person that doesn't expect me or treat me like a prim and proper lady besides Jon" Arya mocked

"Liar!"  
"Stupid!"  
"That's enough! I don't want to here any arguments about this!" Ned said, exasperated. "Would you even marry or look at him if he wasn't king? He told me and Jon that he'd forfeit his claim to the throne but can't. "For we must all do our duty", he said!" Arya said in a mocking voice. Ned was more impressed by the boy every day: Robert's looks and Renly's charm but spoke with Stannis' voice. "I wouldn't care at all! Either way, he'd be a great king and I'd be his queen. Our children would be beautiful black lions with eyes as beautiful and clear like crystals!" Sansa cried out. "The lion's not his sigil, stupid. He'd be a stag, like his father. And from what I heard from the royals and squires; a golden stag." Arya said. "Well, he certainly is. He's nothing at all like that drunk king!" Suddenly, everything began to make sense. "I want you girls in your chambers now." Ned said. Both of them grumbled.

Ned suddenly took out the book that Jon Arryn had been looking through, _The History and Lineages of the Great Houses of Westeros. _He proceeded to skim through the pages until he found the part of the book that bore the black stag of House Baratheon and proceeded to read.

Orys Baratheon - Black of Hair, Eyes of Blue. Married to Argella Durrendon

Mychal Baratheon - Black of Hair, Eyes of Blue.

Axel Baratheon - Black of Hair, Eyes of Blue

Boremund Baratheon - Black of Hair, Eyes of Blue

Borros Baratheon - Black of Hair, Eyes of Blue

Lyonel Baratheon - Black of Hair, Eyes of Blue

Gowen Baratheon - Black of Hair, Eyes of Blue. Married to Tya Lannister

Steffon Baratheon - Black of Hair, Eyes of Blue. Married to Cassana Estermont

Robert Baratheon - Black of Hair, Eyes of Blue. Married to Cersei Lannister

Gendry Baratheon - Black of Hair, Eyes of Blue.

Joffrey Baratheon - Golden Hair, Eyes of Green.

Of the previous Baratheons, two stood out. Gowen Baratheon had also married a Lannister ninety years ago. Reading further, he found that they had a single child. A black haired blue eyed boy that died at birth. Pouring deeper into the book, he found that thirty years before that the lord of Casterly Rock took the daughter of the lord of Storms End as a wife. They had three daughters and one son. All had black hair and blue eyes. Now for the first time in months everything became clear, Jon Arryn's death, Brandon's fall and Robert's bastard children. All the pieces had come into place. Ned finally knew the secret that would bring House Lannister crumbling down.

**Okay, to firmly establish this, Sansa is clearly jealous of the apparent nature of Arya and Gendry's relationship. To the Gendrya shippers, Gendry simply likes and respect Arya in a purely platonic way; a friendship. But Arya** _might_ **harbor a small crush on the crown prince. War will commence but as to how it will, I think some of you might have an idea as to how it may happen. If you're wondering as to why Jon chose the name "Greystark" its because he knows he could never be a true Stark, so he went for something close. **


	8. Chapter 8

**299 AC**

**Ned**

Ned sat on a stone bench at the foot of the heart tree in the Godswood. He knew the queen's secret and he knew by all rights he should tell Robert. The only thing that stopped him was the question egging his mind. What will happen to Cersei and her children if he told the king. After witnessing Robert's determination to kill Danaerys, Ned was no longer sure he knew what his old friend would do. Though he wanted to believe that Robert would spare the children, Eddard was no longer willing to take such a risk. Robert had gone hunting again so he had time to think about what to do.

Cersei finally strode in gracefully in a simple crimson dress. _She does everything gracefully_, Eddard thought. Her hair spilled freely down her shoulders like a river of gold and here eyes would make emeralds look dull in comparison. Ned never truly saw how beautiful she was until now.

She sat down beside him, "Why here?", she asked.

"So that the gods can see" Cersei gave him a small smile. "I doubt they will care too much". Ned decided to get to the point quickly. "I know the truth Jon Arryn died for." "Do you Lord Stark." She asked mockingly.

Ned had to know, "How long have you and your brother been lovers." Cersei didn't even flinch, "Ever since we were children," She said immediately. "Jaime and I are more than brother and sister, we shared a womb. We came into this world together, we belong together. Whenever I'm with him, I feel whole. The Targaryens wed brother and sister for centuries to keep their bloodline pure so why not?"

Ned scoffed at that, "Many of the Targaryens went mad didn't they?" Cersei's smile vanished almost immediately and she struck him across the cheek. Ned's head snapped to the side, but his expression remained unchanged. "My son Bran saw you with Jaime didn't he? Did he nearly die because of your indiscretions?" Cersei nodded and looked away. "He did, but I had no idea Jaime would push him off."

She turned back towards him. "Do you love your children?"

"With all my heart," Ned said at once. "No less than I love mine."

"Even Gendry?," Ned asked curiously.

To her credit, Cersei bowed her head. "Gendry," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "He was the one good thing that I ever allowed to come out of my relationship with Robert. Even after we were wed, Robert would lay with practically every woman in King's Landing. After I birthed my black lion, his golden stag, he had fewer women for his sake. When I cradled his wriggling little body for the first time, his writhing little hands grabbed mine own and his blue eyes looking up at me with absolute worship. I wanted to hate him but he smiled at me. All I felt was love for the tiny black haired form in my arms. Make no mistake Lord Stark I love my children, whether they be Robert's or Jamie's."

Ned shook his head in disbelief, "What did Robert ever do to make you hate him so much. A thousand other women would of loved him unconditionally." Cersei's eyes burned and it looked like for a moment she was going to slap him. But she regained her calm composure and said. "I worshiped him, when I saw him on our wedding day, tall, strong and handsome. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. But when the time came to consummate our marriage, he came in reeking of wine and called me 'Lyanna'. Your sister was a corpse and I was a living girl but he loved her more than me. Now look what he has become, a fat violent drunkard."

Ned looked at her with pity in his eyes. Ned and Catelyn's love was as strong as anything. But the queen had been forced to marry a man who couldn't truly love her. To live a life she did not choose. Despite his sympathy Ned was compelled to do the honorable thing. "When Robert returns from the hunt, I have to tell him everything. Cersei for your children's sake as well as your own I beg you to flee. Take Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen and go to the Free Cities. Your family's gold will give you a decent life. Gendry will ensure his father doesn't come after you." "If you expect me and my children to willingly go into exile, you are sorely mistaking. No, Joffrey will eventually have the throne. You will have to accept that."

"I will never pledge fealty to Joffrey. The throne belongs to Gendry solely by all the laws of Gods and Men." Cersei smirked, "You could have taken the throne yourself Eddard. Jaimie told me about it. You came into the throne room and made my brother step down from the Iron Throne. All you had to do was climb up those steps and take the throne for yourself. You would of made a good king. It was a grave mistake on your part."

Ned smiled and shook his head. "I have made many mistakes in my life. But that is not one of them." "Oh but it was Eddard," Cersei declared. "When you play the game of thrones you win or you die. There is no middle ground." Ned laughed at that. "Keep that silly southern game of yours, I want no part in it." Cersei frowned, "Good bye Lord Stark." She said coldly. With that she turned on her heel and began to walk away. Ned was about to do the same until a dreadful thought came into his mind.

Turning around he called after her. "If Joffrey ever becomes king, that means he will go after everyone he deems an enemy." Cersei turned around and smiled. "That is good," she said. "A king must destroy his enemies before they destroy him." "But that will also mean getting rid of everyone he hates. Tell me Cersei, who does Joffrey hate the most in this world?" He said, already knowing the answer

**Gendry**

Making weapons, armor, whatever the like always seemed to calm his nerves more than training with weapons. He was surprised that Sansa came up behind him. He felt quite embarrassed as he was completely drenched with sweat and nothing covering his body. "Is there something wrong, my lady?" Gendry asked. "Nothing, Gendry. Just tell me. Are you interested in Arya?" Sansa asked. "I find her to be an interesting person" Gendry said. "To say if i were actually interested in her is rather insulting. I'm betrothed to you, I'm going to marry you! Are you going to be like this every time some pretty highborn or lowborn maid approaches me?" Gendry said. Sansa began to blush, feeling embarrassed.

"I'm very sorry. I shouldn't ha-" Sansa began to say. Gendry then put a finger on her lips. "You're to be mine and I'm to be yours in the sight of the Gods and men. Do you understand?" Gendry said. He didn't know what came over him but he suddenly began to kiss her and she was kissing him back. She tasted like lemon and mint and a hundred assortments of many perfect things. Her hands began to touch his form.

"Prince Gendry!" a guard called out. "What is it?" Gendry said irritated. "It's your father, the King. He's been badly injured." He then turned to Sansa and kissed her lightly on the cheek before running off to his father's chambers. _Gods, what has he done now?!_ he thought. As he came into his father's chambers, he saw that he was not alone. His mother was there, along with Joffrey, Uncle Renly, Grand Maester Pycelle, Ser Barristan and Eddard Stark. His father was lying on his bed, his large stomach covered with many bandages but they could not hide the wound. It did not look good.

Kneeling next to the bed, Robert's face was as pale as milk, his eyes were sunken and bloodshot . "What in the seven hells happened," Gendry asked to no one in particular."A Boar," Robert replied weakly. "My fault boy, drank too much wine, missed my mark. But I got it son, slashed the bastard's throat with my dagger." Gendry closed his eyes and shook his head. _You idiot, you blind bloody idiot. Why do you always have to drink._ He cursed to himself.

Robert then directed his attention to the other people in the room. "Cersei, Pycelle and Barristan clear the room, the rest of you stay." So the three left the room leaving Gendry with Renly, Joffrey and Ned. Robert turned to his second-born son. "I'm sorry Joff, I should of spent more time with you. Taught you how to be a man." Gendry doubted that Joffrey will ever be what Robert hoped for. but after seeing the look on his face maybe there was a chance. With that Joffrey left the room but before he left the door Gendry saw a single tear roll down his cheek. After Joffrey, Robert turned to Renly.

"Brother, I know we've never seen eye to eye, fuck, I haven't been the best brother. But please Renly, make peace with Stannis. He is the only family you have left. Don't let your differences tear House Baratheon apart. He may not be as jolly as he once was but he's a good man. It's not worth it to resent him." Renly nodded curtly, yet Gendry saw something in his eyes that set him off. With that Renly turned on his heel and left the room.

"Gendry," his father called out weakly. Gendry knelt beside the bed close to his father. Robert placed his hand on Gendry's head, before cupping his cheek."Gendry," he began. "Oh my boy, no father ever had a better son. Even if I was never meant to be one. I cannot tell you enough how many times how proud I am of the man you have become. From the moment you were born, I've been proud of you. We're so alike and so unalike in many different ways. Be the king I could never be. Rule fairly and justly. Take care of your girl. And look after Tommen and Myrcella for me, they're still young and will need your protection." Gendry clasped his father's hand with his own. "I promise father," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gendry was close to tears, _Don't cry_ he told himself. _Not in front of your father and not in front of Lord Stark. _Robert let out a violent cough and continued. "I want you to know you were right. The both of you" Gendry looked up curiously. "You were right about Daenerys," Robert clarified. "She was only a girl, I wanted her dead and the gods have punished me for it. The rest of those ingrates in the council, Pycelle, Varys, Littlefinger; worthless the whole lot of them. None of them objected to my plan, nobody would tell me NO. No one but you, Ned and Ser Barristan. I'm glad you talked me out of killing her. I'm glad you were there to speak reason in a crowd of idiots."

"It was the right thing to do," Gendry replied. Robert smiled and pulled Gendry closer and and rested his forehead on his own. "I'm sure the bard will ensure your memory will live on." Gendry said. Though it was likely painful, Robert laughed. "My memory," he replied before going into a coughing fit. "King Robert Baratheon, murdered by a pig. What a song that will make." Gendry burst out laughing, even now his father manage to find humour in his own death.

"Now go Gendry," The king said. "Go to your younger siblings and tell them what will happen. I have to speak with Ned alone. "Of course Father," Gendry replied. Taking a slight bow he left the room but not before turning to look at his father for the final time.

**Ned**

"Ned. Get out a quill and paper." Robert commanded him. Ned had done so and pressed the quill on to it. "In the name of King Robert, titles, titles titles, name Lord Eddard Stark, titles, titles, titles, Protector of the Realm. Until Prince Gendry comes of proper age." Robert said. This place is filled with vipers though. Should Tywin Lannister come, he'll surely try to make Gendry some sort of weapon in court. What then? Joffrey and his siblings were bastards with no claim to the throne whatsoever. After Gendry, Stannis would be in line for the throne. So, he wrote "my heir" rather than Prince Gendry.

"Give it to the council once I die. You'll hate it worse than I did. But you'll do it well. At least they'll say that I did this one good thing." Robert said. "The Gods punished me for wanting to kill a child. Let her live. Stop it if it's not too late." Robert said. Ned nodded curtly and told him that he will stop it. "My children. Gendry. Joffrey. Little Mycella and Tommen. Help them, Ned. Make them better than I." Robert groaned. The fact that Robert was going to die was putting a heavy blow in his heart. The pain of Jon Arryn's death was still burning fresh in his heart. First, he loses the man who had been like a father to me and now he was to lose the friend he had considered a brother.

Robert's eventual death brought up a number of dilemmas. Ned couldn't bring himself to tell his dear friend the truth about the queen. That knowledge would of added to the agony he was already feeling. So Ned remained silent if only for his sake. The King's death meant that Cersei would try to solidify Joffrey's position on the Iron throne. Unfortunately, she was not the only one making plans. As Ned sat at his desk thinking about what to do next, Lord Renly came to the door. "Lord Stark," he said bowing, "Could I have a word in private?" Ned nodded and bid him to come in When Renly came into the room and stood before Ned's desk. Ned noticed that he seemed rather anxious as he was twiddling his fingers.

"What can I do for you Lord Renly."  
"My brother named you Protector of the Realm did he not." Renly asked immediately. Ned nodded. In truth he wasn't happy about this turn of events. But someone needed to keep the Lannisters in line after all they have done. Besides that It was his duty and Ned always did his duty."It won't matter to Cersei," Renly continued. "Give me one hour and I can put 100 swords at your command." Ned looked up in wonder. "And what am I suppose to do with these 100 swords?" "Strike," Renly insisted. "Tonight while the castle sleeps. We need to get the children away from the queen and into our custody. Whether you are the Protector of the Realm or not, he who holds the king will hold the kingdom."

Ned rubbed his chin in thought. _I could use 100 swords._ But what Renly was planning went against everything Ned stood for. "No," he replied shaking his head. "I will not dishonor Robert's memory by dragging frightened children from their beds." Renly looked at him in disbelief. "If we don't act now it will be too late for you, me and everyone we care about." "What about Gendry?" Ned asked in wonder.

Renly shrugged, "What about him?" Ned's eyes widened in disbelief, "Gendry is the one true heir to the throne." "He's still a boy," Renly countered. "He's like his father, what would he know about running the kingdom. He's not a king." Renly stood up straight and raised his chin, "I am." Ned couldn't believe his ears. Robert's body was barely cold and his youngest brother was already plotting to seize the throne for himself.

"He may not know much about ruling," Ned said coolly. "But he still knows a damn more than you ever will." Renly was taken back by that, his eyes quickly narrowed, "very well," he said. With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him. Unfortunately for Ned, Renly was not the only one with plans to share with Ned. Petyr Baelish entered the room and bowed. "My lord Protector," he acknowledged mockingly. "What do you want Lord Baelish?" Ned asked with an air of irritation. "I have come to understand you have a dilemma." Baelish replied calmly

Ned nodded, and against his better judgement he decided to tell him. "Gendry is the sole heir to the throne." "So it would seem." Baelish smirked. Ned looked at him, "What are you saying exactly." "The realm will surely bleed should you attempt to deny Joffrey and the others their supposed right." Baelish said simply. "Another option would be to seat Joffrey on the throne and if he proved to be an obstacle we simply expose him and the rest of his family." Ned shook his head. "Have you not a shed of honor?" He demanded angrily. "I only wish to help, I assure you. Just as I promised your wife I would. If you accept my proposal I will put the city watch under your command. We both know you will need it."

"Ned contemplated what Baelish said and for the briefest moment he was tempted to go along with it. But what Gendry had told him once began to echo in his mind _Littlefinger's a slippery one. Don't place anything with him_."I'm afraid I must decline your offer Baelish. What you are asking is dishonorable." Baelish nodded, "So be it Lord Protector." He gave a bow and left the room. Ned would have much time to think about what to do. The very next day a servant came in informing Ned that 'King' Joffrey requested his presence in the throne room. He entered the throne room escorted by two guards, Before him, Joffrey sat on the throne fiddling with one of the blades. Next to him stood Cersei, Sandor Clagane, and most of the kingsguard. Ned made his way slowly towards the throne. In his hand was Robert's last will and testament.

Finally he stopped at the foot of the throne and Joffrey spoke. "I command that you make the necessary preparations for my coronation. But right now I will accept your oath of fealty as well as those from the other liege lords. "Where is Prince Gendry?" Ned asked. "My beloved brother couldn't be here at the moment. So, I am accepting the crown in his stead." Joffrey said smugly. Ned took a step forward and addressed the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "Ser Barristan, no one in this room can doubt your honor and loyalty. Would you please read the contents of this document?" He handed Ser Barristan the letter. "It's King Robert's seal," he declared, "unbroken." Joffrey and Cersei exchanged a look as Ser Barristan broke the seal and read the letter. "King Robert has named Lord Eddard Stark protector of the realm.' The knight announced. "Until his heir comes of age." "May I see that?" Cersei asked. Barristan immediately gave her the letter. As soon as she read it she turned towards Ned. "Do you think this gives you power over us?" She asked. Cersei tore the letter in half and then into fourths.

"Those were the kings words," Ser Barristan objected. "We have a new king now," Cersei replied. "And Lord stark will pledge fealty to him." Ned without thinking blurted out, "I will only bend the knee to your brother. He is the rightful king. Not you." Silence echoed across the hall Joffrey and his mother were fuming with rage and Ser Barristan was staring at him in shock. Ned then realized what he had just done, he had only recently warned Cersei about what might happen to Gendry. Now his words have put the life of Robert's son and Sansa's betrothed in grave danger. "LIAR," Joffrey screamed leaping to his feet. "KILL HIM, KILL ALL OF THEM, I command it." At that moment, dozens of Lannister soldiers entered the throne room. Ned drew his sword to face them when he felt the edge of a blade pressed to his throat and a sniveling voice whispered. "You were right not to trust me," Baelish said gleefully.

**I know, I know. What and where am I going with this? WHY is Joffrey accepting the crown when its not his by law or succession. That will come into light very soon. Also, the exact nature of Cersei's relationship with Gendry will be shown. **


	9. Chapter 9

**299 AC**

**Arya**

She had been practicing with Syrio. She felt herself become more and more skilled with every passing second. She followed everything Syrio did without question. Syrio had then knocked off her sword. "Now, you are a dead girl." he said. She felt confused. "You said right. But you went left." "Yes. And now, you are a dead girl." he said. "But only because you lied." she stated. "My tongue lied. But my eyes were shouting the truth. You were not seeing" Syrio said. Why does he constantly speak in riddles? "I was so! I was watchi - " "Watching is not seeing, dead girl. The seeing, the true seeing, that is the heart of swordplay." he said. Suddenly, a Kingsguard and numerous Lannister guards came.

"Arya Stark. Come with us. Your father wants to see you" The Kingsguard Meryn Trant said. Just as she was about to, Syrio blocked her. "And why is it that Lord Eddard is sending Lannister instead of his own? I'm wondering." Syrio said. "Mind your place, dancing master!" the kingsguard mocked. She realized he was right. Meryn Trant and the Lannister's cronies were here. Where are her father's men? Where's Jory? "My father wouldn't send you. And I don't have to go with you if I don't want to!" she said boldly, raising up her wooden sword. Meryn simply laughed evilly, like someone told him a funny jape. "Take her" Trant ordered. "Are you men or snakes that you would threaten a child?" Syrio said. The Lannister guard approaching them simply told him to get out of his way. Syrio then stated who he was, and then the Lannister guard called her dancing master a foreign bastard. As he tried to take down Syrio, Syrio just swung his wooden sword at the man's helmet and he was instantly knocked down.

"And you will be treating me with more respect." Syrio said. "Kill the Bravosi. Bring the girl." Meryn Trant ordered the guards. "Arya, child, we are done with dancing for today. Run to your father." Syrio said to her. The guard to the left of him charged right at him but he easily blocked his blade and whacked him on the head. As he began to fight the Lannister guards, she began to realize what he had been talking about. He easily bested every one of them, even knocking two of them together on the head. He moved gracefully and skillfully, having each of the guards strike each other down and then striking them himself. All of them were then knocked down on the ground; knocked down by Syrio and a wooden sword. Meryn Trant suddenly scoffed at them, calling them bloody oafs. Syrio then told her to go but she then pleaded for her dancing master to come with her and run. "The First Sword of Braavos does not run" Syrio said proudly. Their swords had begun to clash immensely until Meryn's real sword broke Syrio's wooden one. "What do we say, to the God of Death?" Syrio said. Arya felt her breathing get heavier. "Not today" she uttered.

Arya ran as fast as her legs could manage. Finally she reached a stairway, upstairs led to the bridge going to the Tower of the hand, downstairs led to the cellar, Realizing that climbing up towards the bridge was too risky, Arya rushed downstairs towards the cellar. The cellar was a dead end save for a small window on the far end. Arya rushed towards it and began climbing the wine barrels until she reached it. With effort, Arya squeezed through the window and into the light.

As Arya retrieved Needle, she saw a chubby stable boy holding a pitchfork approach her. "So there you are," he said with a sneer. "Help me saddle a horse so I can get out," Arya pleaded. "My father is the hand of the king and he'll reward you." The boy smiled mockingly, "Your father is in chains, but I will be rewarded alright, by the queen." He advanced upon her, pitchfork in hand.

"Stay away from me," Arya shouted, she raised Needle in front of her. "Come here," the boy said, grabbing her by her shirt.

Arya panicked. her lessons with Syrio vanished, "I said stay away," she shrieked. At that moment Jon's lesson echoed in her mind. She thrust Needle as hard as she could into the boy's chest. The blade went between his ribs and out the other side. The boy gasped and dropped the pitchfork as the sword pierced through his heart. He looked at Arya and crumpled to the ground, his eyes widened with the shock of dying. "Take it out," he begged as he died. Arya slowly removed Needle from the dead boy's body. She wiped Needle on the boy's shirt and sheathed it. She then ran faster and far as her legs could take her.

**Sansa**

"Where's Arya? She has her lessons!" Septa Mordane grumbled. "She's at her dancing lessons. She's so clumsy though. Always comes back with scrapes and bruises." Sansa said. "Excited about the prince?" Septa Mordane asked. "Yes. But what if I only grant him daughters?" Sansa said. "I don't think the prince would mind. He seems to love you very much." Mordane said. Suddenly, she heard noises. Screaming. "What's happening?" Sansa asked. "Go back to your room. Bar the door. And don't let anyone in." Mordane said. "Why? What's happening?" "Do as I say, Sansa." Septa Mordane said. She then ran to her room as fast as she could. As she came close, the Hound was already there. "Don't worry, little bird. I ain't gonna hurt you. I'm taking you to the king."

**Jon**

Jory had been practicing with him. He felt great. He was no longer a simple bastard. He was now Jon Greystark, Warrior of Winter. "Not bad, Jon. You really did earn that knighthood. Still can't believe you're a Ser now!" Jory said happily. Just as there swords began to clash even more, they were interrupted by Lannister guards and Kingsguard Boros Blount. Or as many of the squires had called him, Boros the Belly. And with good reason to.

"Ser Snow. You're to come with us. Your father has called for you and your sisters." Boros said. Something was strange. "Where are the other men? The Stark men that Lord Stark brought?!" Jory said. "Get them!" Boros commanded. Jory and him began to fight them. Arya was right, these Southron lords will knight anyone who can hold a sword. But they were already getting up as they were being brought down.

Boros then looked at his blade. His eyes were filled with lust for it. "Fucking Valyrian steel. Always wanted me some Valyrian fucking steel." Boros said. The Lannister guards than began to go after Jory while he and Boros began to hack away at each other. Gods, each of his swings were filled as much power as the next. He was able to block them but for how much longer? Just then, he noticed his legs were already beginning to wobble and sweat was dripping from his visor. How and why was this man a part of the Kingsguard? He then swung hard enough with his light sword to knock off his helm. _Gods, what an ugly man_, he thought. Boros then continued to hack and then had him pinned on the ground. "JON!" Jory screamed in distress as he continued to take down the Lannister guards.

_Gods, I shouldn't have mocked his weight,_ Jon thought as he felt crushed. His sword was close and reached to get it. But Boros then pinned it down. He then felt fear coursing throughout his entire body as Boros then brought upon his sword close to his face. Without thinking, he punched the fat man with his free hand and then grabbed Dark Sister. He then slashed him across the face and then pierced him through his eye. He then heard the fat ugly man scream and then collapse like a heap of nothing.

Jon felt his breathing becoming heavy and ragged. "Jon? Jon, you okay, lad?" Jory said. Jon just kept staring at the body of that fat oaf who wanted his sword. "First man you killed?" Jory said. "Yes." "We need to find Lord Stark and your sisters and get out of here." Jory said. "You go on ahead and find my sisters. I'm going to go and get Ghost." Jon said. "I'm not leaving you here." Jory said. "The girls are more important right now. Jory, go find them." Jon pleaded. Jory then nodded and left.

Jon then ran to the godswood as fast as he could. Ghost was already staring at him like he had been waiting for him. Three Lannister guards were on the ground with blood spurting out of their necks like a fountain. The direwolf then began to lick his face. "I'm glad you're alive, boy." Jon said, placing his friend's face close to him as he gently whined. "Come on. We have to get out of here. Wolves aren't meant for King's Landing." Jon said. He and his friend then proceeded to run.

**Gendry**

The three Gold Cloaks had dragged him out of his chambers. Just what the fuck did they think they were doing? "Wha-What are you doing? Where are we?" he asked. But they responded by whacking him on the back of his head. As he looked up, he realized he was in a secluded part of the docks. "Sorry about this lad." one of them said. "I'll be taking that mighty fine axe o' yours though!" the other one cackled, having his eye on Stormbreaker as it was strapped to his back. The other one then began to hold his head to the shallow end of the water. T_his was it. This is my execution_, he thought to himself. Just as he was about to enter the water, he heard a **thwack** sound. Daven then stood over the Gold Cloak who tried to drown him. The Gold Cloaks then unsheathed their own swords prepared to hack them into pieces. Daven took out his own blade and Gendry took the blade off of the incapacitated Gold Cloak. They had skill but they certainly lacked it. Daven's blade went into one of the eyes. Gendry swung hard enough to knock off the helm and then the next swing had taken off part of the man's head.

"What were you doing? Why are you here?" Gendry gasped out as he then proceeded to hug his cousin. "I saw them take you away. Gold Cloaks were about to enter my chambers too, but I gave them the slip." Daven said. Just the, the other Gold Cloak began to groan loudly. The Gold Cloaks don't do anything like this. Surely enough, they were gold-plated thugs but they don't do things like this on there own. Gendy lunged at the man and began to choke him. "Why did you do this? Who made you do this?!" Gendry growled. "W-We were ... following orders." the Gold Cloak gasped. "Whose orders? Whose orders?!" Gendry growled out. "King ... King Joffrey's." he said before passing out. Gendry suddenly let go of the man's throat. "Joffrey ..." Daven said in a barely audible whisper. "I always knew he was a little shit." Gendry snarled. "I'm pretty sue there are worse shits then him. Didn't Old Walder Frey try to betroth you to one his many daughters and granddaughters?" Daven said. "Uhh. He makes regular shits look like a wet shit." Gendry snorted out.

"What do we do now?" Daven said, pointing at the dead Gold Cloaks. Gendry the woke up the other one. "Your orders. What were they exactly? What were they?" Gendry asked. "To bring your body to the king." "Why? Why did Joffrey order my death?" Gendry asked. "I dunno, my prince. I didn't ask. He said something about being meant to rule." the Gold Cloak said. Gendry and Daven then looked at one another. They knew what needed to be done.

**Cersei**

She was Queen now. Ned Stark would be sent to the Wall soon and Joffrey declared Sansa to be his wife and queen. She would do nicely for him. Joffrey would rule justly and fairly. But then her mind began to wander to her eldest. Just where was he? Joffrey was sitting on his throne with one leg over the arm as if he were displaying himself. Suddenly, he began to smile as two Gold Cloaks approached them. "Has it been done?" he asked. "It has, Your Grace. We even got the Stag of Dragonstone!" one of them said in a low but deep and booming voice. Joffrey then smiled. "There were three of you. Where's the other one?" Joffrey asked. "He died doing his duty to you, my king." said the other one with the same voice. The two Gold Cloaks then tossed two black haired individuals right before them. _What had he done? What did my Joffrey do? _she thought as she saw the bodies. Both of them were black haired and their faces were completely scratched and bloodied.

__No. No. This can't be._ _Up close, they had blue eyes. Beautiful blue eyes like Robert once had. One of them was fairly slender; he was Stannis's son. The other was her beautiful black lion, her golden stag. Her own child

"My king. What will you do with his things?" one of them asked. "Bring his helmet and ax into my chambers. Their the only other things I'd want from him, that and his betrothed." Joffrey chuckled. "And the bodies?" the other asked. "Get rid of them. I don't care how you do it." Joffrey said.

"What did you do? What did you do?" Cersei whispered. "I became king. Like the kings of old." Joffrey declared. She then looked at him; horrified as to what he is.

She felt herself remember. Remember a time when they had all once been a family. Cersei faintly recalled her golden lion and her black lion playfully sparring with sticks and giggling. "Beneath the gold, the bitter steel!" Gendry called out. Joffrey then raised his own stick and then called out, "Beware the Sword of the Morning!" They then began to furiously clash their sticks together now, giggling heartily. Tommen was eagerly watching his brothers fight right next to him while Myrcella had begun to rest on her shoulder. Robert then approached putting a hand on her shoulder, watching them play alongside her. There was no malice in their eyes, just love and adoration.

Cersei then remembered the worst thing that happened. Her father Tywin, the Old Lion of the Rock, had come to take away her black lion to foster. She remembered how Robert roared with anger that day. How Tommen and Myrcella cried for days on end, missing their brother. How Joffrey would silently cry himself to bed. "Remember this, my sweet. You may be a stag first, but you are a lion as well. Write to me every day?" she asked her son. "I swear by the Crone, I will" Gendry beamed, smiling. What had happened to it all?

**Ned**

What the hell had he been thinking? He had put not only Robert's only son in danger but Sansa as well. "You've seen better days, my lord" said a voice. It was Varys the Spider. "What do you want?" Ned angrily said to the eunuch. "Nothing, my lord. I thought you ought to hear this. Your daughter Sansa has now been betrothed to King Joffrey Baratheon." Varys said. King Joffrey? No. Gendry should be king. "What of Gendry? Robert's boy?" Ned asked. "Dead. Apparently he drowned himself out of the grief of having lost his beloved father." Varys said. No. Either the eunuch was lying or someone actually slain Robert's only heir. After that, Stannis would be the rightful heir to the throne.

"What of my daughters? Jon?" Ned asked. "Sansa is here and safe. As for Arya, no one had been able to find her. Your son seems to have fled, but not without showing the queen his prowess. They found a dead kingsguard, Ser Boros the Belly." Varys chuckled. Ned worried for them now, especially Jon. He can't believe that he'd actually and deliberately kill someone. "Sansa has sweetly and desperately pleaded with the king to spare your life. Your eldest son Robb is marching south with an army of Northmen. Brave and loyal lad fighting for your freedom." Where was he going with this? "Robb's just a boy" "Boys have been conquerors before."

"What do you want? No games, no riddles. Truthfully." Ned said. "Peace, Lord Stark. I'd like for you to make peace with the Lannisters. Cersei knows a tame wolf is far more useful to you than a dead one." Peace with the Lannisters? "You want me to make peace with the woman who murdered my friend; my king? Who more than likely sent her son to die? Who had my men butchered? Who crippled my son?" Ned exclaimed. "I want you to serve the realm! Tell the Queen you shall confess your vile treason. Tell your son to lay down his arms and proclaim Joffrey as the heir presumptive. She knows you as a man of honor. If you give her the peace she needs and assure that you will carry her secret to the grave, I believe that she will allow you to take the black and live out your days at the Wall with your brother." Varys said. "You think my life is some precious thing to me? Trade my honor for a few more years of war? You grew up with actors, learning their craft and the roles we're meant to play. But I grew up with soldiers. I learned how to die a long time ago." Ned said. He knew. Oh, he knew. One way or another. It may not be today or the next but this vipers nest will be his grave.

"Pity. Such a pity. What of your daughter's life, my lord? Is that a precious thing to you?" Varys said. As he exited, he realized it is. He would do anything for his children. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and little Rickon. Even Jon.

**I know. Why the fuck is Joffrey betrothing himself to Sansa? In layman's terms, he was jealous that Gendry had her first. He wanted her, but that's not gonna play out obviously. Joffrey's a sadistic cunt and a highly immature idiotic brat; he simply wants her because Gendry had her. He WILL be the same asshole we all know and hate. You will eventually know the real reason as to why Joffrey condemned his own brother to die, but for now, I'm labeling him as power-hungry to say the least. But he also knows that despite Gendry not wanting the throne, he would do anything and everything within his power to deny it from him.**

**Now here comes the tricky part in assessing Cersei and Gendry's relationship. It's a bit of a love/hate thing: she hates the fact that Gendry looks so much like Robert and is like him in certain aspects. But nevertheless, Cersei's a mother which happens to be the one redeeming quality about her. She hated the sheer fact that she was parted from Gendry as he went to foster with her father at Casterly Rock. She does have some happy memories of him and with him which shall be explored.**

**Don't worry, we'll be seeing much of Gendry and Daven later.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Robb**

He had sent them all to die. He couldn't comprehend what was worse: the sheer fact he had literally sent 2,000 men to die or having to make negotiations with the Late Lord Walder Frey. He certainly wasn't looking forward to the wedding. The worst was that Old Walder had asked for his beloved sister Arya to be wed to one of his sons. It took some negotiating but he ultimately betrothed one of his youngest daughters to Rickon and insisted that any of the unmarried Lords of the North will take a Frey wife. Frankly, he thought that he would take a Northern girl as a bride. He had to admit that before she was betrothed to Daryn Hornwood, he had certainly fancied Alys Karstark. Or perhaps taken a Crannogwoman as his bride? No, the choice has already been made, he noted to himself.

Robb had done the impossible in capturing the Kingslayer but was it worth it? He had felt enraged when he got that letter from Sansa. Enraged that Joffrey has proclaimed himself King of Westeros, forced his sister to be betrothed to him, imprisoned his father and had now asked him to kiss his ass. He prayed to all the Gods, old and new, that it will be worth it. Harrion Karstark, Medgar Dustin, and Domeric Bolton captured. Domeric took him by surprise with his skill. He was true to his house's words, his blade was indeed sharp. Then there were the deaths: Torrhen Karstark, Old Rogar Ryder, Willam Dustin, Edgerran Frost, Halys Hornwood, but the worse of it was Larrence Snow, Lord Halys' bastard son. A young boy who insisted that the true heir to Hornwood remain while he fights. A boy the same age as Daryn, who was more than eager to prove that he wasn't just a bastard. Bloody, foolhardy idiot.

"This one victory did not make them conquerors or heroes. His father had not been freed and his sisters had not been freed either.

**Sansa**

She hated it. She hated having to be betrothed to Joffrey. If any maiden knew just how he truly was, they would spurn him away without a second thougt. Why did Gendry have to go on and drown himself? How could he just leave her behind? Her father was then being dragged before the Grand Sept of Baelor. He looked so ragged and older than she last saw him.

**Arya**

She couldn't believe it. Why was her father confessing to treason? He would never betray King Robert, he wouldn't betray anyone. Someone's making him say it. Someone must be making him say it. Her father is one of the most honorable and true men she's ever known. Why was he saying these things? Why was he saying that he plotted to kill King Robert? He's nothing like these Southron idiots vying for power

**Gendry**

"Daven. Daven!" Gendry called out to his cousin. They looked and felt more ragged than any person in King's Landing. The only thing keeping them alive was the City Watch uniforms that they had taken from those up-jumped thugs.

"What is it?" Auric asked. Gendry then pointed to Ned Stark. "What is he doing?" Auric said. "Proclaiming Joffrey as my heir. But why say it in front of everyone?." Gendry said. "Joffrey is not your heir and he is certainly not your brother." Auric said. Gendry was confused by what he said. "If you knew about what my father was looking into with Lord Jon Arryn, you'd know that he would never be a true brother. Not even Tommen and Myrcella." Auric said. Was he speaking in riddles now?

"What are yo- " Gendry said as he was then silenced by Auric. "My mother wishes me to allow Lord Eddard to join the Night's Watch. Stripped of all ranks and powers, to live and serve the realm in permanent exile. And my sweet Sansa has begged mercy for her father." His sweet Sansa? Just what the hell has he been doing; betrothing himself to his own betrothed. Was he planning on taking everything that he had? "But they have the soft hearts of women! As long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished! Ser Illyn! Grant me his head!" Joffrey commanded.

He had never felt more sick in his entire life. From the moment he cut open Myrcella's cat, he'd known the cruelty and arrogance Joffrey reveled in. But to actually call for Ned Stark's head on the Sept of Baelor? He needed to stop him. "Stop! Gendry, stop it!" Daven growled at him, trying his best to keep him heel. "What can you do?!"

**Daven**

"No! Stop him! Please! Stop it!" she screamed out. She hated that the vile man Ser Meryn Trant was holding him back. Her father confessed to treason because she pleaded for it. She wanted him to live, not die. Not like this. "Please, someone stop it! Stop!" she cried out.

**Arya**

She couldn't believe it. She needed to do something. She immediately got off the statue of Baelor and began to head toward her father. Suddenly, a man grabbed at her. "Don't look!" he said. "LET ME GO! LET ME GO!" she shrieked. "Shut your mouth! Look at me. Look at me!" he hissed at her. He then held her close to his body.

**Ned**

His eyes roamed. He just saw her moments before. Arya, my dear sweet girl. Where was she? The wildest and proudest of all my little wolves. "The pack survives" he muttered. Everything fell into darkness now.

**Gendry**

"I'll kill him. I swear to every fucking god in every fucking heaven and hell. I WILL KILL THAT SHIT!" Gendry nearly bellowed as Daven tried to cover his mouth. "What could you have done?! Reveal yourself and get killed in his place? There was nothing you could do, Gendry!" Daven said.

"What do we do now?" Gendry breathed out. "You need to leave." Daven told him. Gendry was now more angry and confused than he'd ever been in his entire life. "There's not much you can do." he said. "I can at least protect Sansa. Get her out of here." Gendry said. "Your brother has just declared war. How are we to explain your sudden return to the land of the living." Daven said. He hated to admit it but his cousin made sense. "Where would I go?" Gendry said. "Dorne would be the safest place for you to go. You'll need to disguise yourself, the Martells have no great love for us. Especially after what you did." Daven said. Was everyone going to remind him of this?

"Arianne Martell took me into her bedchamber. I thought I was doing the right thing in asking Prince Doran for her hand!" Gendry exclaimed. "You asked for your hand because you enjoyed having your cock in her." Daven smugly said. "What do you want from me? I-I never been with a woman before!" Gendry exclaimed. "We need to get your to a boat first." Auric said

They then made their way to the docks. Both of them rather nervous about the ordeal. He kept his prized bull's head helmet neatly tucked under his armpit and his valyrian steel ax Stormbreaker strapped to his back. They had then found a small trading galley which Gendry could sneak into. "Promise me something. Promise me you'll look after Sansa for me. Protect her. Be her knight." Gendry asked. Daven gave him a stern look and nodded. "Farewell, Ser Daven." Gendry said. Daven simply stared at him and then gave him a small hug. He then managed to sneak on to the boat and waved a small good-bye.

**Arya**

She felt the man carry her off, away from the crowd. "Do ya remember me now?" the man said. She did remember him. Yoren, the "wandering crow" of the Night's Watch. The one who thought she was a boy. He then dragged her to an alley. "Keep your mouth shut, boy." Yoren growled. "I'm not a boy!" she cried out. "You're not a smart boy? Is that what you're trying to say? You want to live boy?" he growled out. He then took out a knife and began to cut her hair short. "North, boy. We're going north." he said roughly.

It felt strange. She felt more like a boy now then before. "You're name's Arry, now. Arry the orphan boy. No one asks an orphan too many questions. Mostly cuz no one will give three shits about it. Now, what's your name?" Yoren asked. "Arry" she repeated. "Aye. You're a long way to travel and in bad company. Got twenty this time 'round. Men and boys all bound for the Wall. Your lord father gave me the pick o' the dungeons and I didn't find any lil' lordlings." he said. "This lot. Half of them would turn you over to the queen quick as spit for a pardon. And the other half would do the same except they'd rape you first. Now, keep to yourself and when you piss, piss in the woods alone. You'll stay with this lot and stay." Yoren said and gruffly pushed her into a group of boys. She felt confused about this and then bumped into a fat boy.

"Watch yourself midget!" the fat boy said, pushing her. A yellow-haired boy with dyed green hands then came to her. "This one's got a sword." "What's a gutter rat like you doin' with a sword?" the fat boy asked. "Maybe he's a little squire" the blonde boy mocked. "He ain't no squire! Lookatim! I betcha he stole that sword!" he said, pushing her again. "Let's take it off him!" the blonde boy. "You better hand over the sword, midget!" "You better give it up! I've seen him kick a boy to death once!" the yellow-haired boy said. "I knocked him and kept kicking 'im til he was dead. Kicked 'im all to pieces. Now you better give up that sword!" the fat boy declared

She had enough of this shit. "You want it? Take it!" Arya said as she then held Needle to the boys throat. "I've already killed one fat boy before. I bet you've never killed anyone. I'm good at killing fat boys. I like killing fat boys." she snarled at him. The boy he had bumped into then turned to them both. He reminded her of Gendry. He was tall, not as muscular as him but fairly lean and lanky. Except his eyes; green like fresh grass not blue like the sea as his. "You like picking on little ones now, do ya? Y'know, I've hammered down an anvil these past two years. Love the way the steel sings when I hit it. You gonna sing when I hit you?" the boy said, taunting the other two into leaving. He then looked at her blade suspiciously. "This is castle-forged steel. Where did ya steal it from?" he asked. "It was a gift." she said. "Don't matter now. You've got thievers and rapers all alike here." the boy said. "Which are you?" she asked. "Armourer's apprentice. Til my master got sick of me. Name's Colen." he said. "C'mon, you lazy sons of whores! It's a thousand miles from here to the Wall, and winter is coming!" Yoren yelled out.

"Winter is coming." she muttered to herself. The words of her family; her words. Winter will come for these vipers.

**Sansa**

She now hated the Red Keep. The place she once thought to be the most extravagant place was now her prison. Joffrey then ordered her to come with him. He seemed in a rather good mood. Well, his definition of a good mood. "As soon as you've had your moon's blood, I'll have a son in you. Mother says it shouldn't be long" Joffrey said smuglyem. I will never bear his children. I'll make sure of i/emt, She thought. She then realized where she was going. What she was dragged down to see. "No! Please, no!" she cried out. "That one right there. That's your father. Look at it. See what happens to traitors!" Joffrey said.

"You promised! You promised to be merciful!" she whimpered out. "Oh, but it was mercy. I gave him a clean death. Now, look at it." Joffrey commanded her. "Please. Just let me go home. I'll promise I'l - " "I'm to marry you. You're to stay here and obey. Now, look at your traitor father's head!" he bellowed. She then looked. She willed herself not to release what she had eaten. Her beloved father's face looked so pale and his eyes even more cold. She missed his small gentle smiles. The warm and tenderness of his embraces.

"How long will I have to look?" she asked. "As long as it pleases me" Joffrey said. As long as it pleases me. It echoed in her head. That probably meant forever. "Care to see the rest?" Joffrey said. "If ... it pleases you, Your Grace" she said. She had never felt more weak than right now. He then pointed to the left. "That right there is your Septa!" Joffrey cried out in glee. "I'll tell you what. I'll grant you a present. After I raise my armies and personally slay your traitor brother, I'll grant you his head as well!" Joffrey cried out again. She could hear the glee he was desperate trying to contain in his "commanding" voice.

"Maybe he'll give me yours" she said rather boldly. She then saw him act somewhat squeamishly as she said that. He quickly maintained his composure. "Mother told me that a King should never strike his lady." His eyes then turned to Ser Meryn Trant who immediately struck her across the face twice. As she felt her face turn red from the pain, she saw it in Meryn Trant's face. That same cruel smirk. He loved it. That cruel oaf enjoyed striking her. He wasn't fit to be a Kingsguard. Ser Barristan was and Joffrey had dismissed the old and bold knight.

Sansa then took note of the height. Just how high up she and King Joffrey were. She could do it. She didn't care if she would be condemned as a Kingslayer; anything was better than being with Joffrey. All she had to do was get close and push. The Hound had grabbed her shoulder before she could do it though. He then cleaned her bloodied lip. "Will you obey now? Or do you need another lesson?" Joffrey cruelly asked. He then left and then the Hound turned to her. "Save yourself some pain, girl. Give him what he wants. You'll need that again." He said, as he then handed her the handkerchief he used to wipe away the blood. She then turned back to see her father. The proud wolf of their pack gone, but she will survive. One way or another.

**Robb**

His father was dead. The raven came less than three days ago. He went to the weirwood tree he had said a prayer to before. He had prayed for his father's safe return. He had prayed to the old gods to help bring back his sisters. To help bring back Jon. His prim and proper sister Sansa and his fierce wild sister Arya. His brother Jon who looked so much like his father. Something which he hated him for at times.

"Where are you?! Have you forsaken me?! he thought. His rage began to climb. The face on the weirwood. He began to see Joffrey's face. Where was the real prince; where was Gendry?! He then removed his sword from its sheath and began hacking at it. He kept seeing Joffrey in the weirwood. His evil face. Did that face laugh as he saw his father's head fall to the ground?! Did he sneer at it as he sneered at everything back at Winterfell?! Did he keep his father's head plastered on a spike as some kind of prize?!

"ROBB!" he heard someone cry out. It had been his mother's voice. He now felt the tears feeling warm and close to dripping down his face. "You've ruined your sword." she said weakly. He then dropped it and felt his mother's arms wrap around him like before, when he was still a child of ten. "I'll kill them all. I swear it. I swear I'll kill them all!" he cried out. "Hush. My boy. My boy. First, we need to get the girls and Jon. And then we will kill them all." She told him.

**Stannis**

He kept staring at the fire. "Father?" Robard whispered. He couldn't believe it. The Lannisters did away with his own nephew; their own kin. If that were bad enough. They had the audacity to murder his own. Daven, his proud Stag of Dragonstone. They have no honor whatsoever.

"They murdered my boy. Auric was a good lad, a sweet decent lad. And they bring his body here to apologize. I cannot forget that, I will not forgive that." Stannis said, grinding his teeth. "None of us will forgive or forget that. Armond has been beating every squire and his boys are asking for their uncle. Pearse has been asking why he ... had to leave. Shireen has been bawling her eyes out.

His daughter was taking this harder. They were close and thick as thieves. He recalled that she would read right beside him and he would sing Two Hearts Beat as One for her until she fell asleep. Now she was singing it but out of sadness and remembrance of her brother. Armond came now fully clad in his armor. "Have you heard? Our delightful uncle has decided to crown himself king!" his son said tossing a letter in front of him.

"He picked it up and crumpled it as soon as he was finished. "His own kin dies and he goes off and crowns himself? I did not want the damned throne, but I'll have to be king now." Stannis said. "Why? Forgive me father, but Joffrey is the heir to the Iron Throne." Robard said. "My sweet boy. It's time you know. What I had been looking into with Lord Arryn." he said. He went on explaining the lineages of the house and then told him of their

"If this is true, than Tommen and Myrcella have no claim to it either!" Armond exclaimed. "Exactly. My boys. I need you to gather the Stormlords. And the greatest storm they'll face is coming to them." Stannis said.

**So, with the "deaths" of both Gendry and Daven, Stannis now has more of a reason and a cause to take the Iron Throne. Unfortunately, Melisandre will still be there to "guide" him so to speak. Where the f$^* is Jon?! Don't worry, he'll show up in the next chapter.**


	11. Chapter 11

**299 AC**

**Bran**

He couldn't believe that he was gone. Rickon was already upset when Mother, Sansa and Arya had left for King's Landing. Now, he wouldn't let Bran out of his sight. He hated the fact that he can't use his legs, and even if he did recover, he wouldn't be the same. He wouldn't be the knight he yearned to be or climbed like before. Nevertheless, he loved to ride in that saddle with Dancer whenever he could.

He especially loved doing it with Errold Cassel and Edmyn Ryder, the young heir of Breakstone Hill. Lynara Bolton came to represent her house. She was kind and courteous to him as ever. He understood why Jon would harbor feeling for her. Her eyes, as daunting as her father and brothers, were very beautiful. The strange Beron Snow had come. He was so familiar to him for some reason but can't recall why. He reminded him of his father in a way: tall and bearded like most men but fairly quiet as his father had been described to be. He only spoke unless he was spoken to as well. As he began enjoying the harvest feast, two small people came.

"Hello, my lord of Winterfell. I'm Jojen Reed, the heir to Greywater Watch and this is my sister, Meera." the boy said. He was rather short and slim and had very beautiful deep green eyes. Meera was rather enchanting with her beautiful long brown hair and green eyes. "To Winterfell we pledge the faith of Greywater. Hearth and harvest and we yield up to you, my lord. Our swords and spears and arrows are yours to command. Grant mercy to our weak, help to our helpless, and justice to all, and we shall never fail you" they said. They then knelt before him. "I swear it by earth and water." Jojen said. "I swear it by bronze and iron." Meera said. They both then said "We swear it by ice and fire". "I thank you for swearing the faith ofGreywater Watch to Winterfell. Now, please, enjoy yourselves." Bran said

**Cersei**

She felt herself so distraught as she entered Gendry's room. Honestly, if her could, that stubborn boy would live and sleep in the forge. As Cersei looked at the bedpost, her thoughts immediately went to her eldest. He must have been frightened, no, her Gendry was rarely frightened of anything. She even remembered when he first began to train with Jaime.

"Hahaha" Gendry laughed. "You've got skill, boy. You might be better than me one day!" Jaime said. Jaime and Gendry kept on swinging their swords until Jaime swung too hard and slashed his arm. Those arrogant fools barely fought with tourney blades. "Gendry, you alright lad?" Jaime asked. "I'm fine. Let's keep practicing." Gendry said. "You're badly hurt. You need to see Pycelle, this instant!" Jaime said. "And Father once told me once I'm King, I'll have to get used to this. I'll see a lot of it." Gendry said somberly.

Her brave boy. She had been wanting Joffrey to be King. She believed he would be one of the greatest kings ever. But Gendry was going to be greater. She would have denied her black lion his right to see her golden one be king. And yet, her golden lion killed her black lion. Joffrey killed his own brother right under her nose. She began crying; crying and hoping that he did not suffer.

**Jon**

They had escaped out of King's Landing through the Kingswood. _I should have got them out!_ he thought to himself. Sansa and Arya. Sweet Arya. Gods, I hope for her safety. Ghost had been leading him. Or trying to. Just where was his wolf leading him to?

"Ghost! C'mon, you great big beast!" Jon said, trying to control his direwolf. Ghost then stared at him for a long while and continued off. emSeven Hells/em, he muttered following Ghost once more. He then saw what his wolf had been leading him to: shelter. The castle was immensely ruined. Perhaps it was a very beautiful castle before. As he walked into it, he made another fantastic discovery again. The sword was just lying there in the hall. The scabbard for this Valyrian steel sword had been made of ironwood and gilded steel with a sword belt of rich, black leather. Much like the scabbard he had made for Dark Sister, it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. The grip was made of ironwood as well but what was interesting was that the pommel was weirwood. The blade itself was an icy-blue color and shone resplendently in the light._ Maybe I'll give this to Arya, when I find her_

He then found a good place to sleep in and found himself enjoying the view. He could perfectly see the moon and all of the stars in the sky in the ruined hall. Ghost quickly made his way to Jon and began nuzzling him. "Thank you, my friend." He said. Ghost immediately whined with pleasure.

Suddenly, he began to hear something. First, it had been the sound of screaming. Like some one had been dying, suffering. Numerous voices and sayings were beginning to echo around him.

""The Prince That Was Promised."

"I'll only marry in the sight of my Gods"

"My people are loyal and can keep him safe. The boy will be happy in the Neck"

"Other than Arthur, I've never met anyone as honorable as you, Ned"

"The Kingsguard does not flee."

"Please Your Grace, I beg you, all I ask is to have Lyanna back. Think of your son. Think if Viserys was taken. I ask as a father to a father."

"Promise me, Ned"  
The last part began to echo repeatedly and loudly. He then saw the people making the voices. A tall handsome man, with the most dark and beautiful eyes and resplendent silver hair. A small slim man with green eyes. A beautiful woman with long dark hair and beautiful violet eyes. A powerful-looking man wearing a Kingsguard cloak and armour. And finally, a beautiful young woman with dark hair and grey-steel eyes. The same eyes as his. The same as Arya's. She was dying in a pool of blood and blue flower petals. "Promise me, Ned" she said. Did she know his father? Why did she seem so familiar?

Jon suddenly woke up feeling dazed and confused. Suddenly, men came at the ruin. "You! What are you doing here?" said a knight with resplendent red armor. "I was just seeking shelter. I'll be on my way." Jon said. "I don't think so. We'll take him to the King!" said another knight with beautiful green armor. "Why're you bringing me to Joffrey for?" Jon asked. "We're not taking you to that madman. We're taking you to King Renly." the red knight said.


	12. Chapter 12

**299 AC**

**Denys**

It was great being back home in the Vale. This is where I belong Denys thought. He began to hope to be buried here. With the way his body was acting toward him, his end could be coming soon. As he entered the Eyrie, he was immediately greeted by all the attendants. "Elbert!" he cried out. Elbert's face was a bit windburnt, his hair still the same honey blond hue as his and windswept but some of the liveliness from his sky-blue eyes was lost. "Denys! I've surely missed your company!" Elbert said. "How's Mina?" Denys asked. "Mina's doing well. She's been tending to children. Oh, and here she is now with my falcon chicks." Elbert said introducing her. She was surely pretty with her golden-brown eyes and soft brown curls, and a very shapely figure too. Suddenly, Elbert's children began to converse with Raymont and Osbert. My, how they all grown. Janna and Rhea had become young beautiful maidens of sixteen. Androw was already married off to a Lynderly woman and expecting his first child. Qyle and Tywell were growing to be such strong strapping young warriors for twelve. Corwyn and Artos looked like young dutiful young boys, ready for the aches and perils of war and destined to have futures as warriors of the Vale. As did young bright-eyed Ethan. Little Olene was very willowy but he knows she will become a beautiful young lady.

Then he was greeted somewhat coldly by someone. "Husband. You look well". It was Lysa. Only the Gods know what had happened to that woman. She used to be so warm and caring. Nowadays, she seems to push him away. "Lysa. Good to sea you." He was then greeted by another person. "FATHER!" Robin shouted and then jumped onto him, holding like his life depending on it. "Sweetrobin. I hope you've been good." Denys said. "I would've been better if I could have made the Lannister baby man fly!" Robin pouted. Lannister baby man? Make him fly?

"Boys, why don't you go into your chambers?" Denys suggested. Ray and his brothers immediately got the idea and left. "Where's Cliff?" Denys asked; inquiring about his eldest son. "The bastard has taken up position of Knight of the Gate after my uncle left." Lysa responded coldly. "Blackfish left? Was looking forward to drinking with him. As for Cliff, he's not a bastard." Denys responded angrily. "He practically is. He didn't come from my loins. I didn't want him here so I sent him to do his duty to protect my Sweetrobin." Lysa said.

"Enough of that! What are we going to do about the war?" Elbert inquired. "War? What are you talking about?" Denys asked. "The war that's occurring right now and the war your lady wife refuses to acknowledge!" Elbert said. He then told him of how Lannister knights raiding the Riverlands, Ned Stark's head being lopped off at King's Landing, the trial of Tyrion Lannister and Lysa's outright refusal to Catelyn for support. "Lady Lysa! You had no right to refuse!" Bronze Yohn exclaimed. "I'm doing my duty as Lady of the Vale!" she exclaimed. "I'm Lord of the Vale now, Lysa. Do you not think about your brothers being in peril right now! Gods know how all your family cried for Thaddeus as he nearly died in the Battle of the Trident. Will you allow Edmure and Sebaston the same as that?!"

"How dare you?! I am honoring my duty to my family to have my children protected!" Lysa screamed and leered at him furiously. "Family, Duty, Honor. Those are the words of your House and you tell me you will not do your duty to your family? If not, then I will as they are my family as well!" Denys said, shocking her, Elbert, Mina and Bronze Yohn. "Maester Colemon, prepare the ravens and assemble all the available scribes we have. Fly a message to all of the lords of the Vale, and have the messages say that I will have them pledge their allegiance on the battlefield." He looked to Yohn Royce next. "I hope that you shall stand by me as one of my generals, Lord Royce. I will need assistance." "Of course, my lord Arryn." Bronze Yohn puffed out his chest. "I shall serve you as I served your and your lord father in the Rebellion." He then looked to his cousin. "Can I count on you as my second-in command?" Denys said. Elbert then knelt before him and said, "It'd be my pleasure, Lord Arryn" "Tell Mya to ready her mules. Cliff, Ray and Osbert will be going with me as well." Lysa attempted to protest but then said nothing. She then mumbled something incoherent.

"Never thought I'd go back to war, again." Denys said as he prepared to leave.

**Theon**

He couldn't believe it. Pyke. He was finally back home. Theon had been wondering about it for all this time. But there was no one there to greet him. No grand welcoming party or feast or anything. His uncle Urrigon's great warship, _the Silence_, wasn't in the ports either. He found himself entering his father's chambers. He fondly began to remember how grand they looked as he was a child. His lord father was just standing there, looking over the fire. "Father" he said. "My son has returned to me" Balon said rather coldly. "Nine years it's been. They took a frightened boy away from me. What have they given back?" Balon said. "A man. Your son. Your blood and your heir" Theon said proudly, holding his chin up high as well.

"We'll see about that. Stark had you longer than I did"  
"Lord Stark is gone"  
"And how do you feel about that?" Balon said, almost as if he were taunting him. "What's done is done. I've brought you a proposal from Ro - " "Who gave you those pretty clothes? Did Ned Stark do you the honor of making you his daughter?" Balon said in the same taunting manner. "If my clothes offend you I'll change them" Theon said. "Damn right you will. That bauble around your neck, did you pay the iron price for it or the gold?" Balon inquired. Theon felt strange, almost scared as Balon was approaching him. "I asked you a question. Did you take it off a corpse you made or buy it to match your fine clothes? Iron or gold?" Balon inquired, more and more aggressively.

"Gold." Theon muttered. Balon then ripped it off of him and tossed it on the ground. "I will not have my child dressed as a whore. My fear has come true, the Starks have made you theirs." Balon said. "My blood is of salt and iron!" Theon retorted. "And yet, the Stark boy sends you to me like a trained raven clutching his messages." Balon mocked. "The offer he makes is one that I had proposed." "He heeds your counsel?" Balon asked. "I've lived with him, hunted with him, fought by his side. He thinks of me as a brother." Theon said. But the pride that once filled his voice began to dwindle away. "NO! Not here, not in my hearing. You will not name him your brother; the son of the man who put your uncles and true brother to the sword! Or have you forgotten your blood?" Balon cried out.

Unfortunately, Theon remembered remember his family well. His uncle Donel would push him into the water, his uncle Harlon who first taught him to wield a sword and promised to take him on his first reaving and his uncle Robin, who was arrogant sickly pratt. But he knew and remembered Maron very well. He remembered nothing but his cruel japes, compulsive lies and his drunken cuffs. "I hadn't forgotten anything. I remember my uncles and brother. And I still remember when my father was a king." Theon said. He then gave his father the document which he immediately began to read. "I see. Destory Robb Stark's enemies for him and he will make me the King of the Iron Islands once more." Balon said, with a certain bit of interest. "I'll lead the attack myself!" Theon said, filling himself with pride. "Oh, will you now?" Balon mocked again. "I'm your son, your only living heir. Who else?" Theon retorted. Suddenly, the door burst open and many came. He immediately recognized his powerful uncle Victarion and his uncle Aeron whose hair was woven with seaweed. Then came the wench Esgred and two others he didn't recognize. A smirking young man with thick wavy black hair wearing a Greyjoy surcoat and another with the same hair as him and the boy but with iron fingers.

He then pointed at the wench, asking how she got past the guards. "Anything with a cock is easy to fool" she retorted. "My dear" Balon said hugging her. After a minute, he recognized her. "Yara?" "Good to see you, little brother! I will surely tell my child about this reunion" Yara said taunting him. "You don't recognize us?" the younger man said. He immediately recognized the older of the two as his cousin Quenton but he couldn't ponder about the other one. "Captain of the guards?" Theon said stupidly. "My real heir." Balon said proudly. It suddenly became clear as to who he was. But he was practically a babe when he saw him last. He looks about Sansa's age. "Euron?" "Wait a minute, she and he can't lead an attack?!" Theon retorted loudly. "And why not?" Victarion asked. "She's a woman. And Euron's practically a child!" Theon retorted again. "And yet, your the one in skirts!" Euron taunted. The same way Balon taunted.

"This ain't Winterfell, boy. Your sister has taken command of your older brother's ship after your new father killed him. And the boy as been reaving and raiding since the moment he left Balon's balls. And soon, he'll command the Iron Fleet." Victarion said proudly, looking at his sister and brother. They all then uttered the words of the Drowned God. "What is dead my never die." "The only nights they have spent off of these islands have been spent on the sea. They've commanded men, they've killed men. They know who they are." Balon said proudly and then tossed Robb's document into the fire. "No man gives me a crown. I shall pay the Iron Price. For that is who I am, for that is who we've always been."

"You're not gonna stand a chance against the Lannisters!" Theon said. "Who said just the Lannisters?" Euron taunted.

As he made his way into his father's war room, he saw Euron. He looked more a proud Ironborn warrior than he. He then eyed the ax strapped to his back. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. It even had the golden kraken of his house etched on it. "Beautiful thing, ain't she? Nagga's Fang its called. Took it off some Lyseni whoremonger. Then I took his wife." Euron said rather proudly and smugly. "Plans have been made. Time you heard them. The wolf pup has gone south with the entirety of the Northern army at his back. The lions have been focused more on the Riverlands. As he tangles with the lions of the West, the North is ripe for the taking. The Westerlands shall defy us but they shall be at our mercy as well. We shall reave and pillage as it was in the old days, all along the coast. We'll spread our dominion across the green lands. Strongholds will yield to us one by one. The Rock and Winterfell may defy us for a year but what of it? The rest will be ours: forests, fields and halls." Balon said. The way he spoke, it wasn't just with pride but power. Power in his voice and the faith of the Drowned God came from it as well. Yara, you will command the _Black Wind_ and take 30 long ships to attack Deepwood Motte. Victarion, you shall take command of the _Iron Victory_ and take Moat Cailin. Quenton, you shall command the _Savage Fortune_ and take Lannisport. Euron, my boy, you shall take command of our 50 best long ships and the _Iron Maiden_ and take Fair Isle, Crakehall and the Rock itself!" Balon boomed out the last part.

"What's my role in all this?" Theon asked. "You shall take a ship to raid the fishing villages of the Stoney Shore and bring House Frost to heel." Agitated. Mockery. That's what he was feeling and that's what he was receiving. Victarion and Euron simply smirked about this. "A ship? She gets 30, he gets 50 and I get one?" Theon said. "The _Sea Bitch_ should be perfect for you." Quenton said. "Fisherman. You want me to fight fisherman and House Frost?" House Frost's naval power was quite fearsome, how would he take it down? "Stay weary of the fishing nets!" Euron mocked him. "Father. I've fought with Robb Stark, I know his men. He won't give up the North easily. " "They'll barely even know we're ther -" "What do you know of it, woman?! I'm a proven warrior!" Theon said loudly. But that didn't do him any good. "Your brother was a warrior, and now he's dead at the hands of those you seem all to eager to protect." Victarion sneered at him. "I'm not protecting anybody. I'm just wonder if its not wiser to wait. Why risk going against the North if they're to be our allies? Rise up against them and they could destroy us. If we pledge fealty to them, we'll have Casterly Rock all the same!" Theon said.

"What are our words? Our words?" Balon said. "... We do not sow" "We do not sow. We're Ironborn. We're not subjects or slaves. We do not plow the fields or toil in the mine. We take whats ours. Perhaps you're more of a greenlander than Ironborn. Your time with the wolves has made you weak." Balon sneered once more. "You act like I volunteered to go. If you remember, you gave me away. When you bent the knee to Robert Baratheon. After he crushed you. Did he take what was yours then?!" Theon mocked back at his father. He was then met with a powerful slap and his face nearly facing the ground. Euron and Victarion loudly chuckled. "YOU GAVE ME AWAY! YOUR SON! Your own flesh and blood! Gave me away like a dog you didn't want anymore! Now, you've cursed me cause I've come home?!" Theon cried out. But he fell on deaf ears. His father left immediately and cousin and uncle soon followed. "You want our father to bow down to your new family?" Euron questioned, in the same taunting manner as his father. "I have no other family!" "Do you now?" Euron mocked. Gods, he hated him. Always annoyed the crap out of him when they were little, pleading to do the finger dance with him. Now, here he is. His little brother, bold as brass, flowing dark hair, knives and the lot on his armor. The Kraken Knight. "Make your choice, Theon. And do it quickly." Yara said, as they exited the room. What to do? Defy my ironborn family or my greenlander family?

**Jon**

They had brought him to Lord Renly in a hall filled with bright tapestries depicting roses, knights, and maidens. King Robert's youngest brother was a tall and handsome man with bright blue eyes and dark hair falling to his shoulders. He looked just as Jon had always pictured the King before Renly's older brother had arrived in Winterfell, fat and disappointing to look upon. He was garbed in green and gold, the colors of House Tyrell, which Jon thought odd. The attending Tyrells matched the lord in his grandeur.

Lord Mace Tyrell was fat and jovial and elegantly dressed. He may have taken pride, but his daughter, "Maid Margaery" as Jon had heard her called, was clearly the apple of Lord Tyrell's eye and the love of everyone at Highgarden, highborn and low alike. Both Lord Tyrell and his daughter were also richly dressed in the green and gold of their house while his youngest son, whom Jon was now just meeting, Ser Loras, wore a suit of gleaming steel-blue armor, flowers knitted tightly and carefully into a chain that ran through the plate in a mesh across the chest that must have taken hours to complete. He was handsome without a doubt, and carried an air of confidence that seemed in contrast with his young age.

These were some of the most important people in the south and Jon felt a beggar in his dented and dull, gray plate yet the Rainbow Guard strode forward proudly and he followed, head held up.

"Ser Robar Royce and his party returned. They bring back someone called Ser Jon Greystark" A steward announced then. Hearing his name said as such seemed rather strange. Instead, he tried to walk as straight and proper as Robar the Red had.

Then the Lord of Storm's End turned his attention to Jon and his mood seemed to change. Jon worried suddenly that his presence was a mistake and that Lord Renly might be offended by the bastard before him when the lord did something surprising.

He held out his hand.

Jon stared at it, shocked for a moment, before finally reaching out and taking it.

"Shameful the whole lot of them. My favorite nephew slain by his own brother. Abomination he is. Cersei's and Joffrey's actions against your father and my family have been shameful. Anyone who met the man would know that Ned Stark could no more commit treason than warm a room with his smile." The man squeezed Jon's hand firmly as he said such. "I promise you this, Joffrey's head will be found on a spike when we take King's Landing."

The surprising treatment he was receiving and Lord Renly's words lifted Jon's spirits but only a little. Knowing that the Lannisters held his father and sisters tied Jon's stomach in knots.

"Thank you, my lord." Jon finally spoke as Lord Renly released his hand. "When you do so, I'd march with you."

"Tywin Lannister already marches." Ser Loras put in. He was called the Knight of Flowers and the rumors about his beauty seemed true. That he was as great a warrior as well, Jon could not say, but he looked graceful and strong, like a knight should. "The Kingslayer and he are burning their way across the Riverlands."

"And Robb Stark is bringing his bannermen south even as we speak." Lord Renly countered with a wave of his hand. "None of that will compare to the force that your lord father and I intend to raise." Jon couldn't believe his ears. The Reach and the Stormlands were going to call their banners. They were going to march together. All to save his father, and Jon would be with them. A northern bastard would be riding with the finest knights and lords of the south. It made no sense.

"My lord… I never thought myself as worthy enough to be a squire. For anyone, let alone for a knight such. I never even gave thought to being a knight. Gendry had arranged for me to be trained under Ser Barristan after …" Jon realized he'd made a mistake then but Lord Renly motioned for him to continue. "after we left the Wall, so that I wouldn't join the Night's Watch."

Ser Loras made a noise of laughter and his sister shot him a cold look which silenced him. While Lord Tyrell had more tact, he still looked at Jon with something akin to pity.

The Rainbow Guard guffawed rather loudly. The honor that came with serving the realm in the Night's Watch, he had warned that the order was something to be mocked this far south. Renly had not reacted except to shrug.

"Well, for that I am glad. The Night's Watch still has good men among it, kin to Ser Robar and yourself if I remember correctly. Sadly, like so many other things in the realm, it has faltered over the years, becoming the dumping ground for cutthroats and dungeon dwellers. I could see better for you Jon."

Lord Renly accepted a cup of wine from a servant and sipped, his eyes smiling but his face calm. "Do you hold your own brother dearly?"

"Robb and I grew up together at Winterfell. I love him… as I believe he does the same for me, my lord." Jon said truthfully. In spite of their differences, he would die for Robb and thought of him often. He missed his brother greatly.

Lord Renly took notice of the surprise Jon felt on his face. "I just reminded him of how… beneficial the friendship of House Stark would be."

"I don't understand…"

"I hope to earn your good favor Jon." Lord Renly continued as a servant entered from the other side of the hall carrying something in his hands. "I hope to show you and your family that I am a man worthy of your friendship… and your fealty. A man to whom you would happily bend the knee."

Bend my knee?

With those words, so much began to make sense and Jon started to see it before him. Renly was raising an army to march on King's Landing. He insulted the Queen and the new king Joffrey. He wanted Jon to speak warmly of him to his father, the Warden of the North, and Robb, his heir.

Before he could respond, a steward came informing Renly that Stannis approaches. Lady Catelyn came as well. She wondered where Sansa and Arya were, and he spoke truthfully regrettably. How he couldn't find them and had to leave or else he'd be put to the sword as well. He felt like a coward but she said nothing in response. He didn't know whether she was angry at him or felt pity. All she said was that she was glad that he now had a name of his own; a name he earned. As he came with them, he took notice of Lord Stannis' banner; a crowned stag in a burning heart. Strange.

He was surrounded with several loyal men and his eldest children. "Lady Stark, I didn't think I'd find you hear in the Stormlands" Stannis said. "I had not thought to be here" Lady Catelyn replied. "Is that really you?" Renly inquired. "Who else would it be?" Stannis replied. "When I saw you standing there, I couldn't be sure. Just whose banner is that?" Renly asked, pointing at the burning stag. "My own." "I suppose if we use the same one, the battle will be terribly confusing. Why is it that your stag's on fire?" Renly asked. "The king has taken for his sigil the fiery heart of the Lord of Light" said the strange woman beside him. Something about her seemed extraordinarily strange. "Ahh. Must be that fire priestess I've heard so much about. Now I understand why you found religion in your old age." "Watch yourself, pretender!" Stannis' second son cried out. "No, no, I'm relieved really. Never believed you were a fanatic. Charmless and rigid, for sure. But not a godly man." Renly said. "You ought to kneel before your brother. He is the Lord's chosen champion. Born amidst salt and smoke." the Red Woman said.

"Born amidst salt and smoke. Is he a ham then?" Renly jested. "That's twice I've warned you!" Stannis said. Renly then turned to his nephew Robard, whom everyone called "the Righteous". "I'm sorry to take your beloved away from you nephew. But you'll be pleased to know she came to me a maid," Renly seemed to mock. Robard gritted his teeth and replied, "In your bed she's like to die that way." "Listen to you all. If you were sons of mine, I'd knock your heads together and lock you in a bed chamber until you remember you were brothers" Lady Catelyn replied. "It's rather strange to find you right beside my brother, Lady Stark. Your husband sent a raven to me supporting my claim and his integrity cost him his head. Yet, you sit beside this pretender and chastise me." Stannis said. "We all share a common enemy. The Lannist - " Jon said before being interrupted. "Don't talk to me about enemies, bastard. The Lannister's have slain my nephew and my own child, Daven. Or had you not heard about that?" Stannis said cruelly to Renly. Renly now seemed to slump, looking guilty. "I will slay every Lannister and take the Iron Throne. It is mine by right, and all those who deny me are my enemies!" Stannis said angrily.

"All the realm denies it from Dorne to the Wall. Old men deny it with a death rattle and unborn children deny it in their mother's womb. No one wants you for their king. You never wanted any friends, brother. And a man without friends is a man without power" Renly said. Jon may not know a lot about politics but he knew that Renly was right. To forge friendships with people was just the same as making an alliance with them. "For the sake of the mother who bore us, I'll give you this one night to reconsider. Strike your banners and come to me before dawn. I'll grant you your old seat in the counsel. Or I'll make an example of you as I will to the Lannisters." Stannis said, booming with anger on the last part. "Look across those fields, brother. See all those banners?" Do you think a few bolts of cloth will make you king?" Stannis mocked. "No, those men holding those bolts of cloth will make me king. Tyrell swords will make me king. Rowan and Tarly and Penrose will make me king, with axe, mace, warhammer, arrows and lances. Fossoway, Cuy, Mullendore, Selmy, Hightower, Oakheart, Crane, Caswell,Blackbar, Beesbury, Shermer, Dunn, Footly. All the chivalry of the south rides with me, and that is the least part of my power. My foot is coming behind, a hundred thousand swords and spears and pikes. And you will destroy me? With what, pray? That paltry rabble I see there huddled under the castle walls? I'll call them five thousand and be generous, codfish lords and onion knights and sellswords. Half of them are like to come over to me before the battle starts. You have fewer than four hundred horse, my scouts tell me-freeriders in boiled leather who will not stand an instant against armored lances. I do not care how seasoned a warrior you think you are, Stannis, that host of yours won't survive the first charge of my vanguard. Not to mention that other than you having the other half of my lords, your best supporters are falcon chicks. Loras will surely make sure your brought to your knees" Renly said.

"I fear that will be a mistake, Lord Renly. I'm not much of a gardener, but I do think I can put a flower in the ground if it was required of me." This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Renly's usually fair face scrunched up at the threat that was aimed at the pride of his Rainbow Guard. "Besides, roots don't reach into the sky, where the falcon dances." Raymont said smugly. "Watch it, Ray" Robard said, putting his hand on his shoulder to bring the young knight to heel. "Come to dawn. We shall see" Stannis grittted. "Look to your sins, Lord Renly. The night is dark and filled with terrors." the red woman said. But just as she said that, she eyed him. It was a strange look, like familiarity.

**Robard**

"Robb Stark has gone and called himself King of the North and the Trident. Word also has it that Balon Greyjoy has crowned himself King of the Iron Islands once more" Armond reported to him. "Traitors." Stannis uttered as he then put the letters in the fires. "I've heard from mine own sources that it was the riverlords and the nothern lords had gone on and crowned him King of the North and the Trident" Robard chirped in. "What does it matter? They're infidels and the Lord of Light shall burn all these traitors into ash and bone!" Armond cried out.

This was going on far enough. That Red Woman was causing a lot of trouble. He didn't mind or care that many guards and knights began to follow this Lord of Light, but he knows that it will lead his whole family to a road of destruction. "Father. Robb Stark fights for the same reason as us. The Lannisters have taken his father from him. We sho - " "Renly had gathered the majority of the Stormlords to his cause and the might of the Reach. Which Houses have joined my side?" Stannis said. Straight to the point as always. "House Florent has declared for us, they clearly want vengeance for Daven's death. House Estermont of Greenstone, House Wensignton of Amberly, House Staedmon of Broad Ar-" "What of the marcher lords?" Stannis asked. "The Swanns have declared for you, naturally. Grandfather Gulian hopes you are well. Byron Caron has declared for us while his elder brother Bryce fights for Uncle Renly. The Dondarrions have declared for us." Robard reported. "Renly has taken half of the Stormlords." Stannis said. "We shouldn't fret. Lord Denys Arryn had sent Raymont acting as an envoy. We have the allegiance of the Vale as well."

Stannis simply stared at him. Coldly. He's been more cold ever since the Red Woman began to whisper in his ear. It hadn't been long since coming back to Storm's End. And it was only because Ser Cortnay Penrose surrendered to **him**, and not his father. "I've been calling out to several warriors. As a king, you will be needing a Kingsguard." Stannis smiled. "Have you filled all of the positions?" Stannis asked. "Not all. Erren Florent, Rolland Storm and Triston of Tally Hill have taken up positions. Edric would like to join as well."

"I'm going to burn the boy." Stannis said. The red woman had clearly gotten to him. He overheard that talk of "power of king's blood". He had heard that Renly made Edric his heir until a son would be born to him with Margaery, and until then he was Edric Florent. He promised Ser Cortnay that no harm will come to him. It sickened him that his father was willing to stoop as low as to burn him. It also sickened him that Mace Tyrell would allow her to marry the sword-swallower his uncle was. "He's your nephew. He has Baratheon blood coursing through your veins. His name is Edric Florent" Robard protested. " I know his name. Was there ever a name so apt? It proclaims his bastardy, his high birth, and the turmoil he brings with him. Edric Storm. There, I have said it. Are you satisfied, my child?" Stannis said. "After you burn him, what will be left? Maester Cressen died because of that Red Woman. Are you going to let her burn Tommen and Myrcella once we take King's Landing? Will you let her burn down the Grand Sept of Baelor?" Robard questioned. "And he should. They are bastards and the fire shall clean them of their sins!" the Red Woman uttered.

He knew Tommen and Myrcella. Sweetest children he's ever known. They shouldn't suffer for Cersei's sins. "In the sight of the Gods, they are impure. But what about the sight of men? If you burn them, no one will accept you as their king!" Robard said, and Davos Seaworth nodded in agreement. "Your Grace, I know that Renly wronged you but perhaps you could make some sort of alliance with him? You'd have the entirety of the Stormlands, the Reach and the Vale at your back!" Davos said. It'd be a long shot for his father to agree to that but he had to admit, it was a good plan. "He wants me to bow before him and you suggest that ally myself with him?" Stannis gritted. "It's not ideal, but with the combined might of the stormlands, the Vale and the Reach, we can crush them. King Joffrey has only a few Houses from the Crownlands sworn to him and the Lannisters backing him. Not to mention Robb Stark is bringing the Westerlands to heel by razing them. The North will surely bend its knee again when we take King's Landing." Robard said.

"The boy does speak sense, my lord. Robb Stark fights for wanting to avenge his father, the same as your fighting to avenge your nephew and son." Davos said. Stannis seemed to calm down and began to write something on a piece of parchment. "What is it?" Robard asked. My proposal to him. I want my son avenged and properly buried in the lands of his father and his father's father. He deserved better than that" Stannis said. "I may have a way to bring the Tyrells to our side" Robard said. "Out of the question!" Stannis exclaimed. "Father, please listen. Mace Tyrell is an oaf but his ambition is rather admirable. I have a plan to get rid of Renly's claim as king, and claim the Reach to our cause" Robard said. "Alright then. Take this to Renly's camp and bring your most trusted men alongside you." Stannis said. "Of course. And father, you should forgive her." Robard said. "I will. Eventually." Stannis said. "Dyanna still writes. She may not have married a Stormlord but she's happy with Hendry Bracken. She also writes about your grandson. His name is Theomar, get to know him like you do your other grandsons." Robard said shortly before he left.

**Myrcella**

She hated it. She hated how her mother was behaving quite casually lately. Had Gendry's death mean nothing to her? Joffrey's face would become more ugly at the mere mention of him. She had barely seen Tommen anywhere. As she made her way around the Red Keep, she heard a grunting noise coming from the training grounds. As she made her way there, Tygett Marbrand was leaving. His copper-coloured was a mess and had several marks and bruises on his face and body.

"Tyg? What's wrong? Who hurt you?" Myrcella asked. "I'm fine. Just get me away from your brother!" Tygett said. This was strange. Why would he want to be away from Tommen? The heir to Ashemark and Tommen are of the same age and best friends. Why would he want to be away from him? Had something happened?

She heard the grunting noise again. She made her way toward the training grounds but proceeded with caution. It had been Tommen. He was swinging the arakh Gendry made for him angrily and wildly. Then she saw it. His hair was disheveled, his body tense, and the tears he's desperately trying not to let out. "Tommen!" she called out to him. Tommen just ignored her and kept on hacking at the training dummy. She kept calling out but he either didn't hear her or didn't want to. "TOMMEN!" she yelled out. Tommen then yelled out an anguished cry as he hacked off the dummy's head. _He's trying so hard to be strong_, she thought.

"I miss him too" Myrcella said as she approached her brother. He then broke down, and began to cry so hard into her shoulder. "I'll kill him. If it's the last thing I'll do. I swear it, Cella. I'll kill him!" Tommen uttered out. He heard the rumours; the truth of the matter that Gendry died because of Joffrey's pettiness and jealousy. "You'd be a kinslayer and a kingslayer." she said, desperately trying to sooth her younger brother. "I don't care! I'll do it. I'll kill him! I'll kill him" he said, sobbing even harder than before. "Shh. He'll die. One way or another, he'll die, Tommen" Myrcella said. That seemed to sooth her younger brother just a bit.

**So, yeah. Theon's family is filled with a bunch of assholes. Little Euron Greyjoy had been groomed to succeed his elder brother because of the apparent fear that Theon would be more a "greenlander" than "ironborn". Theon 2.0; he's cocky, full of himself but a proven warrior and commander and doesn't have a lick of humility. If he were to be cast, I'd see Charlie Rowe as him because he would match the physical description I had in my mind and has played a character like him before. Robard is desperately trying to help his father the right way and is at odds with Melisandre. And yes, to confirm any notions, Margaery and Robard have a bit of a past together which shall be explored in the next chapter. And yes, Robard does have another sister who shares Armond's story in a sense; defying her father and marrying for love than duty but with a happier ending. **


	13. Chapter 13

**299 AC**

**Arya**

She hated it. She hated how they simply allowed a murderer like the Hound simply go free. The he thoughts ran back to her uncle. How was it that he just miraculously came back to life. "That was strange. I thought when you die, ya stay dead" Colen said, as the firewood he gathered continued to drop from his hands. "Not when it comes to the Lord of Light apparently. That's the first time I'd actually saw it done" Ned said. "You've seen it happen?" Jon asked. "I've heard about the Lord of Light returning his will over and over again. That's how Thoros explained it. But I never actually seen it happen, not with my own eyes" Ned explained. "It was most strange. But why bring him back? Why would this Lord of Light bring back anybody from the dead?" Jon asked.

"Because, the Lord of Light has clearly sent his will into Beric and Thaddeus. Dy'know that he decided to call himself the 'Burnt Trout' because he believes in the Lord of Light now?" Thoros said, sipping from his wineskin. The Burnt Trout. Ridiculous, it makes him sound like a delicious meal. She preferred that he remain the Terror of the Trident. "Why change it? Why stop believing in the seven?" Colen asked. "Because they know who the real God is, and that all must suffer" Thoros said. Suddenly, Beric and Thaddeus came upon them, sitting by the fire. "Do we frighten you now?" Thaddeus asked. "No" "Not really" "A bit" "I want your eye-patch" they replied. "You're angry with me and Beric. We don't blame ya" her uncle said. "But letting him go was the right thing to do, and I have more reason than anybody to see him hanged" Beric said. "He killed you" she said. "Aye. He did. And the Lord of Light saw to restore my light once again. He had done so with Beric as well" He said. Restore his light?

"How many times has this Lord of Light brought back Lord Beric and my uncle?" she asked Thoros. "Beric was brought back three times at the least. First time, the Mountain had struck him through with a lance. The second time his head was smashed in by mace. The third time, the Mountain stuck a dagger through his eye." Thoros said. "And my uncle?" she asked. "No one knows of anyone brave and true than your uncle. I didn't think that the Lord of Light would bring him back but I said the prayers anyway. He first died when Amory Lorch hung him. The second time he took an axe to the belly. The third time was a sword though it. The last time an archer got him. Not Anguy though. And now this makes five" Thoros said. "How can that be? How can you just bring him back?" Jon asked. "I don't bring them back from the dead, the Lord of Light does. I'm just a lucky drunk who says the words." Thoros said.

"It's not as great as it sounds, boy. I become and feel less of myself when the Lord of Light sees fit to restore me. Pieces o' me chipped away. I can scarcely remember anybody or anything. I held a castle by a river once, and there was a woman I was married and children who would run about to my arms, but I can't remember their faces. Who knighted me, old friends? What were my favorite foods? It all fades. Sometimes I think I was born on the bloody grass in that grove of ash, with the taste of fire in my mouth and a hole in my chest" Thaddeus said. "You were knighted by your fierce and loving uncle, Brynden the Blackfish from what I've gathered. You married Lady Rhea Florent and had three children by her: two daughters and two boy. I would remember cuz you saw fit to invite me and I took part in the bedding ceremony" Beric japed. "Rhea. I can barely remember her face but I remember why fell in love with her." he said softly as he began to recall the reason. "Her face? Tits?" Thoros japed. Gross.

"No. Her ears. The Florents are famous for them, but I found them to be the most adorable things I'd ever seen. Marissa, Denyse and Tommard have the same ears if I recall correctly, along with the bright red Tully hair. Rhea would say they looked like the foxes of her house. Caspor though, he looked more like a Tully then any of them. I remember how much he cried after I ..." he trailed off.

"C-Could you bring back a man without a head?" she asked. Jon then looked at her. He knew just what she was asking. "Not six times. Just once" "I don't believe it works that way child" Thoros said. "He was a good man. Ned Stark. Admired and respected him. He's at rest now, somewhere" Beric said. "I wouldn't wish my life upon him" Thaddeus said. "I would. Your alive" she said. She then felt Jon's arm touch her shoulder and slowly come to hug her. "I knew your father. I met him when he had to wed my sister, your mother. I still remember that he didn't want the bedding ceremony to happen, and yet it did. When every man tried to grab at Cat. I remembered helping him punch every man who would grab at her. And then I had the honor of fighting by his side." he said.

"When Catelyn told me how he brought back a bastard into their home, I wanted to go and punch him for doing that. But I didn't. I may not have known him all my life but I knew him enough. He must have deeply cared about your mother, or was so deeply in love with the child that he couldn't simply abandon him." he said directly to Jon. "When I came close to dying by some Gaunt or Chelsted soldier, he came right up and hacked him in half. I see that same honor in you, Jon. And greatness" he said. "I don't want greatness. I want to serve, to save the people. Like a real knight should"

**Robard**

He heard the horses coming back into the encampment as he oversaw the training of the soldiers. He then saw Loras running toward him and fast. "YOU!" he shouted. He was galloping hard and fast, a sword raised up in his hand. Elston Chelsted and Wendel Wensington had already raised up his swords to defend him. But he told them no and quickly unsheathed Defiance at the ready. Loras swung his sword as hard as he could but a simple swing caused it to break in two like a twig. Loras then leapt off from the horse and tried to pommel him to the ground but he kept his calm. He grabbed both his fists and then kneed him.

This seemed to bring the Knight of Flowers to heel. He moaned from the pain but then he groaned out. "You did this! You killed Renly! You and your bastard father!" Gods, perhaps he isn't as stupid as he thought. "I didn't do a thing" he said. "LIES!" he cried out. "It isn't my fault that you failed to protect your king" he said, blunt as a tourney blade. He then came charging at him but he easily pushed him down. "What's going on here?" Margaery said as she approached him, "He killed him. He killed Renly!" Loras screamed out.

"Did I ride out to battle with you? Did I slay him with my own sword? I am not sorry for the death of King Renly. I am sorry for the death of my uncle. Let's be honest, what did King Renly do as he proclaimed himself to be king? He ordered a tourney. Is that the kind of king he wanted to be? He'd be no better than my uncle King Robert." he said. He then turned and faced what remained of Renly's surviving men. "You made a choice. You chose to follow someone who would dress the part rather than play it. You chose a man who deemed himself king because he knew how to make people smile. A bold little boy of one-and-twenty with wild black hair and laughing eyes, playing games, prancing about and saying "Look at me, I'm a king," Do you want to play games or do you want to fight?!" he cried out into the now forming crowd of soldiers. They then cried out "YES". "Do you want to play in a war or fight in one?!" he roared. They then roared back at him. "I know you loved Renly. Despite their differences, my father did as well. I know many of you would want to see him avenged. King Stannis will let you have that vengeance. We will take King's Landing. But don't fight for honor. Don't fight for gold or glory because you won't get it. If we fight, it will be for the right cause. To remove that abomination that calls himself king!" he roared.

"Will you fight with your rightful king?" he said. The crowd of soldiers then gave their response. They roared out in fierceness. He then turned to Loras. "Do you want to avenge him?" he said. "You know I do" Loras growled out. "He did do one thing right. One thing. He made you Lord Commander of his Kingsguard, or Rainbow Guard as you like. I'd like to name you Lord Commander of King Stannis' Kingsguard." Robard said. "I'd be honored." Loras gritted.

As everyone immediately went off to train, he came into Margaery's tent. "Has your father agreed to it?" he asked. "Yes. It took quite a long time at convincing him. I thought I was going to have to say that I was repulsed by you" she said. "Are you now?" he teased, wrapping his arms around her. "No. Never" she said, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "When will we wed?" he asked. "My father wants us to marry at the Sept of Baelor" she said. "Fuck that. I have enough gold dragons to give to a septon. We'll all be getting what we want." he said, now pulling her into a passionate kiss

**Sansa**

She married Edric in what was left of the burnt sept of Dragonstone. It was not what she pictured. Sansa never thought she would do something so wanton; how she gave herself to him and willingly gave him her maiden's gift. She felt dirty and used. She felt that it would have been easier for Edric to have left her with a bastard in her belly.

She saw that Daven and Tyrek gave something of a disappointing look. As she went into her chambers, she saw Edric was already there. "Sorry. I'll just leave" Edric said. "Edric, wait. Don't leave. W-We're married now. I want you to stay" Sansa said uneasily. "No, I'm sorry." he said, shocking her. "You and I should share chambers once we truly get to know one another. So, I'll make my leave to mine own" Edric said. None of this was ideal. But she saw what he was. He may have been a Storm before but he was a Florent now. But that didn't seem to matter either way. He was definitely charming and brave, and immensely courteous.

"Then let's get to know one another. Tell me something about you" she said. And so they talked. He told her about the life he had at Storm's End. How it's castellan Ser Cortnay Penrose loved him like a son. And she told him about her life in Winterfell. How Robb and Jon would train for days on end. How Arya sheep shifted her bed when she angered her, which was always. How Bran would always climb everything and made their mother worry. How she would read to Rickon about the wildlings and the Kings of Winter until they were like music in his ears.

She then felt comfortable with him. More comfortable than she had ever been back in the Red Keep. Sansa found herself nuzzling his neck. "I never really gave a thought as to being a father." he said. "Really? Not once?" she said, teasing. "I always thought of meeting a nice girl and settling down in a nice keep. I knew that as much as I loved Storm's End, it would never be mine" he said. Suddenly, she began to feel sorry for Jon. Jon was her brother and Winterfell was always kind to him but he knew that the place could never be his. He could never call it his home. She then felt saddened that she had not been home. She began to miss it terribly now. Gage the cook, Mikken the smith, her friend Jeyne Poole.

"Sansa? Are you alright? You're shaking" Edric said, placing a fur over her. "No, I'm fine. I just began to miss my home. I miss it terribly." she said. "We could visit Highgarden. After seeing Brightwater Keep, I've only been there twice with Ser Cortnay when he would discuss trade or some other things. It's rather lovely" he said. "Would we truly be able to go?" she asked, hope filling up her voice. "On my honor, I will take you anywhere you'd want to go. Brightwater Keep. Oldtown. Highgarden. Perhaps even the Eyrie and Sunspear." Edric said. She could easily hear it in his voice. He would do anything for her. "Truly?" "Truly" he said. She then put his arms around his side, trying not to address his wound and covered themselves with the furs. "I feel so safe with you"

**Daenerys**

She should hate him. He has the blood of the Usurper coursing though his veins. The blood of the Lannisters who killed her brother's children. But she cannot feel it completely. His eyes a deep blue as the sea and hair as dark as a raven's wing. She wanted to hate him for what his own father had done and she hated the fact that she found him to be a rather handsome young man. He was on the port of the ship and she saw the most shocking thing ever. Viserion simply perched on his shoulder, completely calm. He quickly noticed her reaction. "We've been good friends as of late." he said. Viserion then gave a loud shriek and went off to fish with his brothers. "It's strange. Dragons can only be tamed by those of dragon's blood" she said.

He then had a look of guilt on his face. "Would you walk with me?" she said. He simply nodded. "Would you mind answering some of my questions?" Dany asked. "Of course, my queen" he said. My queen. She loved the way it came out of his voice. "My brother Viserys told me that the Seven Kingdoms eagerly awaited our return. Is it true?" she asked. "Truthfully?" he said, and she nodded. "Not many houses await your return, my queen. I know that House Darry still supports you. They tried to hide it but I could see it in their eyes" Gendry said. "What about House Greyjoy or House Tyrell?" she asked. "The Tyrells are much like my mother's house. They vie for power as much as anyone. They try to hide it but they don't hide it all that well. House Greyjoy serves only itself and their Drowned God" Gendry said.

This had disappointed her. The Qartheans were right. She did have no allies whatsoever, but she had a birthright and a home to return to. "May I ask you something, my queen?" he asked. "You are already asking me something" she said. He then laughed. Already, the laugh had begun to echo marvelously in her ears. "Why is it that your Dothraki call Ser Jorah "Jorah the Andal"?" he asked. "He is of my home of Westeros" she said rather plainly and confusedly.

"Ser Jorah is of House Mormont. He wouldn't be an Andal so to speak" he said. He confused her. Why would Ser Jorah not be an Andal? "What do you mean?" she asked. "Ser Jorah is of House Mormont. The Mormonts are a Northern family. The Northerners aren't Andals, they don't worship the Seven" he said. "The Seven?" she asked, feeling stupid right now. "You don't follow a religion of some sort, my queen?" he asked. No, she didn't. She spent most of her life running and hiding. She never learnt anything about religion or the houses that ruled Westeros. All she learned from Viserys was not to wake the dragon.

She and he then sat down. "If you do plan on retaking Westeros, you're going to have to learn and know about the people" Gendry said. "And you would teach me?" she asked. "Well, I've never really taught anyone this sort of thing, but I can teach you what I know." he said. "What would you like to know first?" he asked. This was strange, she never learned anything about Westeros other that it was once her home. How Viserys ranted on days end that he would be king. But now here she was, learning from a man who would have been king. "What can you tell me about religion? All I've learned about that was the Great Stallion of the Dothraki and that my son is the destined Stallion Who will Mount the World" she said.

Gendry then looked rather shocked. "You have a son?" he asked. "I do. Viserys made me marry a Dothraki horselord named Drogo. He was terrifying when I first met him. But he turned to be the most gentle and caring man I'd know. But then he died at the hands of a witch" she said, scowling the last part. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine that kind of pain" he said. "Of course you can't. You weren't married nor did you lose your beloved to some vile sorcery. It was a miracle that my son Rhaego even survived. For that was what she was after; to kill my son" she said sadly. "I truly am sorry. I may not know about the loss of a beloved, but I will never know it. I was promised to someone before. She was lovely and every time I was with her, I felt this ... desire to protect her, shield her from every danger we'd come across" he said. He spoke with such passion. It sounds as if he loved her or would come to love her. "So. Religion" she said. "Ah, yes. Want to get a hand on that now, would we? First off, the Northern families, like the Mormonts don't really believe in the Seven Gods of the Andals. They keep to the Old Gods of the Forest. The Old Gods ..."

**Littlefinger**

Now that he was Harrenhal's new lord, he had secretly made his way back into the Eyrie. And she was more than excited. "You've come for me. I knew you'd come for me, Petyr" Lysa said, as she happily embraced him. "Of course, my dear" he said. "Sweet Petyr, I've missed you so, you don't know, you can't know. I know that husband of mine pined for his whore, dreamt of her. He would want to shout out her name as we fucked. I know it. But I knew you would come for me. I dreamt of you. Only you, Petyr. I've dreamed of you so long." she whispered. "And I of you, my lady. I would have come much sooner had I been able to" he said smoothly. He slid an arm around behind her and kissed her on the neck. "How soon can we be wed?"

"Now," said Lady Lysa, sighing. "I can call upon the septon, and a singer, and have the handmaidens bring mead for the wedding feast."

"Here?" That did not please him. "I'd sooner wed you at the Eyrie, with your whole court in attendance."

"Poo to my court. I have waited so long, I could not bear to wait another moment." She put her arms around him. "I want to share your bed tonight, my sweet. I want us to make another child, a brother for Robin or a sweet little daughter."

"I dream of that as well, sweetling. Yet there is much to be gained from a great public wedding, with all the Vale—"

"No." She stamped a foot. "I want you now, this very night. And I must warn you, after all these years of silence and whisperings, I mean to scream when you love me. I am going to scream so loud they'll hear me in the Eyrie!" He forced a smile for Lysa then, she would become a dead weight around his neck when they'd all fall but he would have to deal with that when the time came. For now he would content himself with being her devoted husband and bed her with willingness. With enough wine down his throat it should not be too hard for him to convince himself that she was Catelyn.

**Yup. Looks like things are beginning to heat up between the Dragon Queen and the Bull. Robard has now rallied the men unto Stannis' claim. **


	14. Chapter 14

**299 AC**

**Daven**

He hated himself. Those stupid riots were caused by his "lovely" cousin. And yet, he couldn't save Sansa because he had lost track of her. But he had something that could be just as important. Tyrek Lannister. He saw him being whisked away by someone. He couldn't see who but when the moment came, he took it.

He came back to the place where he put him after the riots had dissuaded. "Please, please don't kill me! I'll do what ever you want me to, just don't kill me!" Tyrek pleaded. "I might not. I've gotten good at it. But first, why were you escaping? Who was helping you?" Daven asked, as he took off the helmet. "Varys. The Spider. Wait a minute, aren't you supposed to be dead?" Tyrek answered. "Why? Why was he helping you? Where was he gonna take you?" Daven answered. "I don't know where he was going to take me. Honest! He said I needed to leave for the good of the realm." Tyrek answered.

The good of the realm. He had heard that phrase being used by the Spider over and over again. Just what could the realm have any use of Tyrek Lannister? "You said he was helping you. Why did you need help?" Daven asked. "When the Spider told me I needed to leave, he mentioned something about the king. I don't know what. But I think it's also because I know what and who killed Robert Baratheon" Tyrek answered. This was getting more and more interesting. "My uncle, the King, died in a boar hunt" Auric replied cooly. "That he did, Daven. But I saw something. I saw Lancel put something in King Robert's wineskin. I don't know what it was exactly but the next thing I know, King Robert was moving slower than before. I just thought it was because he was drunk. Gods knew how much he loved wine." Tyrek said.

Tyrek had no reason to lie to him. Frankly, he was the only Lannister he considered to be a friend of his. But still, the Lannisters had started this war. They killed his uncle, the king, and the Lannister devil-spawn had Lord Eddard's head removed."C'mon" he said to him, as he grabbed Tyrek from up the floor. "What are you planning to do with me?" Tyrek nervously asked. "I managed to get this off a Lannister soldier. Wear it" Daven said, handing him the uniform. "We're gong back?" Tyrek asked. "Yes, but now you owe me. I promised to protect Lady Sansa Stark. You'll be helping me do the same now. Understand?" Daven said. Daven nodded his head, "Yes. Yes, of course. I'll help protect her"

**Robard**

He felt great; it felt great. He wasn't one to bed many woman; high-born, low-born or whores. Robard looked to Margaery who was still asleep and her head tucked beneath his arm. Gods, she looks so beautiful. "Morning" Robard whispered gently in her ear. She stirred awake. "Morning to you to, lover" she whispered. Suddenly, they heard footsteps. "You need to go. If they see yo - " Margaery said. "No one will find out. We hear footsteps because my plan is working." Robard said. He then got up and began to get dressed nevertheless.

"Your plan?" Margaery asked. "It's just like you said. I've spent a lot of time with your grandmother. If there's one thing that men value more than their gold, it's their pride" Robard said. Margaery looked at him inquisitively. "One thing men don't admit is that they overhear rumours; rumours about them. I might have spread one about him" Robard said. "What exactly did you do?" Margaery asked. "The best rumours are like the best lies: with certain grains of truth. I told one soldier that Renly is not a true and good king if he doesn't march on and take King's Landing. Eventually, that spreads like wildfire. By the time it reached Renly, he decides to prove himself. And if my calculations are correct, than King Renly is marching to King's Landing with an army of 30,000 and his Kingsguard" Robard explained. "You have spent a lot of time with my grandmother. But what if Renly succeeds?" Margaery asked. "He's more green and arrogant than the Young Wolf. And Renly's not likely to succeed" Robard said.

"You do realize I'll have to marry your cousin Edric then" Margaery pointed out. "You won't though" Robard said. "But I'll be forced to marry him all the same" Margaery said. "No, you won't. Should Renly fail, Edric Florent will then be Edric Baratheon but only if Mace gets his hand on him. I made arrangements for Edric to be taken to Dragonstone under protection" Robard explained. "And then what?" Margaery asked. "If your father actually does have any wits about himself, he'll then declare for my father's cause, and then, you and I will get what we want" Margaery then cupped his face and began to kiss him passionately. Gods, I want to rip off her dress again.

"The next time I'll see you is in our marriage bed" Robard said. Margaery smiled at him and gave him a small peck on the cheek. As he snuck off, he then imagined himself a world with Margaery right at his side.

**Theon**

He had done it. He had taken the heart of the North: Winterfell. And with no more than thirty men. Unfortunately, those Stark brats and the others that were captured had escaped him. It was no matter though. Killing and burning those orphans made it easy to pass them off as Bran and Rickon. But unfortunately, Euron and Yara were right about one thing: he could have continued to keep them as hostages. He then heard that stupid man, blowing that god forsaken horn.

"I will kill that man. I don't care how many spears or arrows they launch at me, I'll kill that horn-blowing cunt" Theon growled. "They want you to know that your surrounded" Maester Luwin replied. "I know I'm surrounded. I know that because I stood on the battlements and saw that" Theon said. "They don't want you to sleep. They want to break your spirits so tha - " "Thank you, wise old bald man! Thank you for explaining siege tactics to me. Still no word from my father?" Theon asked. "No" "Then send more ravens" "You had them all killed" Luwin replied. Theon then sighed heavily.

"The first time I'd seen Winterfell, it looked like something that had been here for a thousand years. And would still be here for a thousand more years after I was dead. I saw it and thought 'Of course Ned Stark crushed our rebellion and killed my uncles and brother. We'd never stand a chance against a man who lives here'." Theon said. "Lord Stark did everything he could to make it a home to you" Luwin replied. "Yes, my captors were so very kind to me. You enjoyed reminding me of that. Everyone in this frozen pile of shit loved reminding me of that. Everyone was loved here, even that damned bastard, but not I. Y'know what its like to be reminded on just how lucky you are to be someone's prisoner? To be told just how much you owe them? And then to go back home to your real father wh - " Theon said, until he heard that horn blowing again.

"I will kill that man! I swear to the Drowned God, the Old Gods, the New Gods, to every fucking god in every fucking heaven, I will kill that man!" Theon shouted. "Theon. Please, listen to me. I serve Wintefell and now that you've taken it, I'm bound by oath to serve you" Luwin said. "What's you counsel then, old friend?" Theon mocked. "Run. 500 northmen are waiting just outside the walls, and you now have twenty men. You won't win. Wait for nightfall and run" Luwin said. Run? "There's nowhere to run. I'll never make it back to the Iron Islands and even if I did, if by some miracle I slip through the lines and make it home, I'd be a coward. The Greyjoy Who Ran. The shame of the family" Theon said.

"Don't go home then. Join the Night's Watch. Once a man has taken the black, he's beyond the reach of the rules. All his past crimes are forgotten and forgiven" Luwin said. I could make it there but I might not. "I won't be able to make it there. I won't make past the Winterfell gates." Theon said. "There are ways. Hidden passageways used by the Lords of Winterfell so they could escape. The road will be dangerous but with a little luck, you might make it. The Night's Watch is an ancient and honorable order. You'll have opportunities there. Opportunities to make amends for what you've done" Luwin said. I could make it there. But Jon Snow is there as well. First chance he'll get, he'll slit my throat. "I've done a lot now, haven't I? Things I never imagined myself doing" Theon said somberly.

"I've known you for many years, Theon Greyjoy. You're not the man you are pretending to be" Luwin said. "You may be right. But I've gone too far to pretend to be anything else" The following morning, Theon grabbed Beth Cassel by the neck and threatened to kill her. Just as Rodrik could do anything, he heard of a party of Bolton men. Moments later, he saw the bodies of a Dustin swordsman, Leobald Tallhart and Rodrik Cassel. "Thank you for the as -" Theon said to the red-helmed man. Just then, his Ironborn warriors were being slain at the ready and felt a hard punch. "Save me the Freys. Burn it. Burn it all" he heard a cackling voice say. Everything was starting to fade. He smelt something burning. The flames weren't just dancing, they were moving, and wildly too. They looked like a horse. Smiler.

**Bran**

He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe any of it. Father was dead. Robb was off fighting a war to avenge him and rescue his sisters. Theon returned only to put the castle to the sword. As he came out of the crypts, he saw it. Everything now looked charred and ragged. His home had been burnt.

Beron Snow came out of the crypts cautiously, as did Edmyn, Errold and Jojen. Cregard immediately unsheathed Longclaw at the ready and Meera and Osha had their spears at the ready as well. Lady, Summer and Shaggydog began to whine. The wolves then began to run off into the godswood and what he saw was just as horrifying. Maester Luwin at the base of the heart tree; dying. Rickon immediately ran to him and Errold and Edmyn ran after him. "Didn't think anyone else survived. Rickon. And Bran too. The gods are good." Luwin said, breathing raggedly.

"Tell us what medicine to get from your chambers" Bran said, trying his best to be brave. "We'll make you better" Rickon chirped. "I feel fine, really" Luwin said, trying not to mind the pain. "Its been burnt. Who ever it was." Cregard said. "They burnt down everything" Bran said sadly. "Not everything. Not you. But they may come back, you'll have to go. Get on your warmest clothes, and pack as much food as you can carry and go North" Luwin said

"North's the wrong way. There mother and brother is south" Osha said. "We don't know where, and there are too many enemies in the south. Go, to the Wall. To Jon, he'll keep you safe enough and let your mother know you're safe." Luwin said. "I don't want to leave you" Bran said. "No more than I want to leave you. I pulled you and your brothers and sisters into the world. And I've seen all your faces every day since, and for that I consider myself very, very lucky. You need to separate. Go now, with Hodor. Go, I'll be right here" Luwin said. "I can take him to my home. Rickon will be safe there" Cregard said. Luwin nodded and then asked Osha for something called a "mercy".

"C'mon, little man. Me and Edmyn are gonna protect you. Errold and the wildling as well." Cregard said to sooth his little brother. "Jon. I'll be seeing Jon as the Wall" Bran said with some happiness in his voice. "The three-eyed raven is there too" Jojen said

**Cregard**

"C'mon" Cregard said, nodding to Edmyn, Errold, Osha and Rickon. Rickon tugged at Longclaw. "Can you show me how to use that. Father has a sword like it." Rickon said. Ice, the fabled greatsword of House Stark. He must have recognized Valyrian steel. "Of course. Once where in a safe place" Cregard said. "I thought you said we were going to Bear Island" Edmyn said, tugging at this tunic, bearing the black-and-gold countercharged centaurs of his house.

"Predictable. We will have to go down further" Cregard said. "Down White Harbor then?" Osha said. "Maybe. We will be needing a ship" Cregard said. "Just where are we going?" Errold said. He's not that older than Bran, he thought. His shaggy brown hair and posture, he could pass off for one of the Stark children. "I told you. Somewhere safe" Cregard said. "Where is this safe place then?" Osha asked. "Somewhere my aunt taught me about. Somewhere where you'll fit in just fine" Cregard said. His family has been loyal to the Starks forever. But with the Ironborn raiding, Bear Island is likely to be next. The Skagossans may be fiercesome people, but not even the Ironborn would dare come to the cursed Island.

**Jon**

This was much better than before. I may not be fighting the war but I'm doing some good. The Brotherhood without Banners. He thought them as greater and grander versions of the Night's Watch. They truly did guard the realms of men. Well, the Riverlands at least. And he greatly admire the lot of them. Beric Dondarrion is a brave, fierce and steadfast leader. Thaddeus Tully is foolhardy but a great warrior of vast skill. Thoros of Myr was a skilled swordsman, a good companion for drinking and a fun man to be around. It was nice seeing Harwin again; nice to have at least one friendly face again.

Lyman Darry was a sweet kid, eager to prove himself. Edrick Dayne was quite strange. His pale violet eyes seem to haunt him in some way. Something about those eyes haunted him. They seemed familiar. It was also quite strange that he insisted on being called Ned. My father's name. "Jon! May I speak to you?" Edrick asked, cautiously.

"Of course, Lord Edrick" Jon said

"I'm not a lord yet, not for a few more years at least. Call me Edrick, please. We shared the same breast after all…"

"What do you mean?." He asked more curtly than he meant and the boy started, his purple eyes widening some. "Wylla. She was my wet nurse. And from what I've heard, she was your mother as well."

The young lord talked about his father coming to Starfall with a baby and a woman, and leaving the woman behind. A woman who would later become a wet nurse to young Edrick and one Jon's father never told him about. At the time, Jon had felt betrayed that this stranger knew the secret of his mother before he did and he had raged at the boy. Only later when his grief had numbed did Jon come to his senses and realize how unjustly he had acted.

"Wylla? Her name was Wylla you said?" He asked and Edrick nodded. "Do you know what's she's like? What does she look like?" Jon asked, his curiosity peaked.

"Of course. She is a kind woman. I don't remember how she looked like, I think she had soft brown hair. All said that she was very gentle with me as a babe. My family treasures her dearly… oh and she sings very well. I remember she sings well."

_My mother sings._

_No one ever sang to me._

It was a lie of course, many had sung in Winterfell but never specifically to Jon. Sansa did, once, when she'd been barely older than Rickon. She had come to his chambers when he was sick abed and sang a song to him. He remembered wanting to thank her for doing that but didn't. Lady Stark had maintained her children to be at a safe distance from him. He wondered why she would do that. It was like she was afraid of him or something. Or had done something to earn her ire other than being born.

"When I have taken ill, a song always makes everything better." Her little child's voice was already so proper, even then.

It was a strange thing to remember now but it was one of the few sweet memories he had of his more distant sister. Jon had even given her a hug to thank her for it and she giggled a little.

That was how Lady Stark had found them. She hadn't said anything to Jon or Sansa about it. She simply bid Sansa to leave the room in a calm voice, saying that she shouldn't bother Jon while he needed rest… but his sister had never acted so warmly to him again and he didn't have to guess what his father's wife had said to her.

They treasure her dearly?

"She lives?" He was confused now. From what father had said in the capital, he could only think his mother had died.

"When I left Starfall she still did."

"Did she… did she ever speak of me? Of being my mother?" Jon hated how young he sounded just as much as he hated that it wasn't father telling him this.

"I never really spoke to her…" Edric looked uncomfortable and he cursed his stupidity.

_How often did Robb ever sit about and ask the serving women of their children?_

"Oy! C'mon, lads. Keep up!" Anguy shouted. "How much longer do we have to keep patrolling?" Lyman asked. "Oh, relax, lads. How about we sing a song within our hearts?" Thoros suggested.

**Arya**

"Will you just explain it to me?" Colen said. Gods, this was annoying. Colen's complaining was worse than Hot Pie's whining for food. "Will you please shut up?" Arya groaned. "Jaquen H'ghar offered to you three kills." "I'm not listening to this" "Just explain. He offered to kill any three people you wanted. And all you had to do was tell him the name. You could have picked Tywin Lannister, King Joffrey, ..." Colen went on. "He helped us escape Harrenhal, so why are you complaining?" she groaned. "But you could have ended the war" Colen said. Colen was strange. A young boy who was no older than her, with the necessary strength to take down any man. He could take down and kill anyone but he wouldn't. There was a ferocity and yet a strange gentleness to the boy. If not for the eyes, he could very much look like a smaller, lankier version of Gendry.

"Why and how did you take the Crippler's helmet?" Arya asked, as Colen clutched on to the goat head helm. "Those people took my old helm. Didn't even get to finish it the way I wanted. Plus, other than making and destroying things, I'm pretty good at thieving" Colen said. "You actually stole it?" Hot Pie asked, surprised by it. "You grow up in Flea Bottom, you do what you can to survive. I don't think I'd have ever truly survived if I didn't meet Prince Gendry" Colen said. Wait a minute, he met Gendry? No, he couldn't have, he's lying. "No, you didn't" Hot Pie said. "I did. I tried robbing him and he got the best of me. He helped get my apprenticeship at Tobho Mott's rather than turn me into the gold cloaks. I even helped him learn how to fight" Colen said. That had to be an outrageous lie right there. Gendry was the crown prince, trained by the Kingslayer and Barristan the Bold. "No, you didn't liar. He learned swordsmanship from the best people" Arya said. "I didn't say how to swing a sword, I said fight. To brawl, take down a person using every bit of your strength" Colen explained.

"Where are we going?" she asked. "North. Right?" "If we were going North, we would have come across the Red Fork River by now" Arya said. "Maybe we already passed it?" Hot Pie suggested. Gods, he's dense. "It's over a hundred feet wide. How on earth could have we passed it? Once we hit the Red Fork, we can follow it west to Riverrun. My mother grew up there, my grandfather's a lord and he can protect us" Arya said.

Suddenly, they began to hear voices. Singing. They then hid behind a broken wall. "Could be a minstrel. Minstrel's have gold sometimes. We could jump him, tie him up, steal his gold and buy us some food" Hot Pie said all to eagerly. "Would you please shut up?" Arya whispered harshly.

_And so he spoke, and so he spoke,_

_that lord of Castamere,_

_But now the rains weep o'er his hall,_

_with no one there to hear._

_Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall_

_,__and not a soul to hear_

Suddenly, an arrow is nearly launched at them. Colen suddenly puts on his new goat's head helm and readies a stance. A poor one too. He's gonna get knocked down. "What's lurking behind that wall? A lion? A wolf?" "Or maybe just a dirty little cobber thing" "Loose a few more arrows"

"Don't" Arya said, emerging from her hiding spot with her sword in hand. Right in front of her was a balding red-haired man drinking out of a wineskin, a skinny freckled man with copper hair and a small man with a pointed nose and thin brown hair. "How bout you put the sword down girl?" the red-haired man said. "You go on down the road. Just keep on singing to know where you are. Leave us be and I won't kill you" Arya said as threateningly as possible. "That's awfully generous" the small man said. "You are dangerous person. I like dangerous people. But why are ya friends so shy?" the red-haired man said. "What friends?" she said innocently. "The fat one over there, and apparently the goat beside him" the copper haired man said.

Colen immediately emerged from hiding and began to assume his poor battle stance. Hot Pie followed. Suddenly, more of them came. "Three young ones carrying castle-forged swords. Escaped from Harrenhal, have we?" the balding man said. "Who are you?" Arya asked. "Thoros of Myr. The bloke to my left is Tom O'Sevenstreams and the one with the bow is Anguy" Thoros said. "I mean, who do you fight for?" Arya asked. "The Brotherhood without Banners" Thoros said. Before she could say or do anything, she heard something from the party.

"Underfoot?"  
"Arya?"

She couldn't believe it. There was Harwin, the master of horse back at Winterfell. He looks so much thinner. The man beside him. No, it couldn't be. "Jon?" she asked. The man suddenly stepped forward. "Arya, is that really you?" he said. He looks so much like father now. "JON!" she cried out in happiness and ran up to hug her brother. "Ohh. I've missed you so much, little wolf" he said. She missed this. Jon calling her little wolf and how warm he was. She hates herself for thinking it but she missed Jon most of all. "I wish I came back for you sooner." Jon said. "You're here. I can't believe it. I can't believe you're actually here" Arya sobbed. She could feel herself crying out tears. No, don't cry, wolves don't cry. She suddenly heard some light footsteps. Arya looked up and saw just what it was. Nymeria? No, Nymeria wasn't that pale, nor did she have red eyes. "GHOST!" she happily cried out again. The direwolf quickly nestled on her neck and began to lick off her tear-soaked cheeks.

"Well, that has that settled. You two, come along then" Thoros said. "I ain't going wit' you. The Brotherhood, That's who the Mountain and his men are looking for" Hot Pie said. "You got nothing to fear from us, boy. All them Lords o' Westeros want to burn the countryside, we're trying to save it." Tom O'Sevenstreams said. "Come along. We'll talk some more over brown bread and stew then you'll go on your way" Thoros said. Hot Pie tried to run off. She barely noticed though, she kept holding on to Ghost's neck. Suddenly, Anguy notched an arrow and launched it into the air. "Here's the thing, fat boy. When I'm done talking, that arrow's gonna hit your fat head, So, I advise you move, cuz I'm done talking" Anguy said. Just as Hot Pie moved out of the way, the arrow hit the exact spot where he had been.

"Let's go, little wolf" Jon said, resting his hand on her shoulder. She couldn't believe it. She had her pack, well, part of it.

**Just want to clarify: Bran and Theon are both under the impression that Jon is at the Wall because that's where they heard from him last. Tyrek's disappearance had intrigued me, so I had put it in there and decided to develop his character to a certain extent. And to "Staniel", yes the castle that Jon was resting in was actually Summerhall. The next chapter will be another reunion chapter **


	15. Chapter 15

**299 AC**

**Denys**

He couldn't believe it. He didn't mind the fighting, just as to why Stannis sent him to fight with Renly's army. Gods. They had gone all out on an offensive. He saw at least ten men being cut down by Baelor "Brightsmile" and Garth "Greysteel" Hightower. He kept cutting down whatever man he could with the Arryn's famed Valyrian steel blade, Talon. Such a beautiful thing. He still remembered how it glistened when he first came into battle with it. It's scabbard neatly decorated with sapphires and moonstones. The blade itself looked white-gold and had a neatly decorated falcon-head pommel made of moonstone and the eyes were of sapphires as well.

"Cliff! Take command of the van! Ray, Osbert, fight and hold on to your dear lives!" he shouted. "FOR THE VALE!" his sons shouted. Gods, he wished he didn't have to drag them down to battle. He didn't want the boys ending up like Elbert. So bloody hardened from the perils of war. Nor did he want them like that madman, Lyn Corbray. Most reckless man he's ever known. So bold and brash, he often wondered if had some Frey ancestry.

Suddenly, he felt another coughing fit. Gods, he hated it. No, this would not be the way he'll die. _I am and was the Darling of the Vale and I will die with a sword in my hand!_, his thoughts echoed in his mind. As he cut down another knight as he entered King's Landing, he felt it again. _Gods, I never felt this weak,_ he thought. Suddenly, a gold cloak came at him about to strike. This was it. But the blow didn't come. Instead, Cliff had come to his rescue and slain him. "Father, are you alright?" Cliff asked him.

"Never better, my boy. Gods, I'm proud of you. Proud of you all. You've grown into fine young men." Denys said. Another coughing fit came upon him, but now he's coughing up blood. "Father?" Cliff asked. "I thought today would not be the day." Denys said softly. Suddenly, a knight came about and slew Cliff right before his eyes. No. Not him. Not my boy, not my son! Just as the knight made way for him, he yelled out a guttural war cry and struck him down with Talon. But he failed to notice the blood coming out of his body now. It began to gush out.

"Father? FATHER!" he heard Raymont cry out. Gods, it began to hurt so much. "Uncle Elbert! Uncle Elbert, help!" Raymont cried out. "Denys? Denys, gods! And Cliff? What happened?" Elbert cried out. Suddenly, he heard someone cry out "RETREAT! OUR KING HAS FALLEN! RETREAT!" So, Renly the Green Boy had died. Figures. "Elbert. Elbert, please. Mercy" he cried out. "Father. Father, please don't talk like that! What about mother? Or Robin?! They need you?! Robin needs you, he needs his father?!" Ray began to cry out. "He'll have to look to you now, my boy" Denys said. Suddenly, he gave Talon to Elbert. Elbert looked at him confusedly at first. "Let me die with honor." Denys said. The last thing he heard was the cries of his son.

He then saw Cliff, looking healthy with his springy and vibrant sandy blonde hair. He then saw Ursula, looking as beautiful as he last saw her with her bright chestnut curls.

**Sansa**

Gods, the Hound had terrified her. Just as he left, she heard someone else. "Lady Sansa?" It had been Daven in his gold cloak armor and a Lannister Knight. "We don't have much time. We need to go!" he said. "But, but what abou - " "That's Tyrek Lannister. He's a friend. For the most part. We need to go. Stay close!" Daven said in a hushed voice. She couldn't believe it. She was going to be free. She'd finally get away from all this horror.

"Halt! Where do you think you're going with the Stark bitch?" a Lannister guard came upon them and asked. "We are to escort Lady Stark into the Red Keep. The Queen ordered her to be there" Tyrek answered. "Really? Come along then" the Lannister guard said. Suddenly, Daven unsheathed his blade and swiftly struck him down. "Let's go. And quickly. There may be more of them out there." Daven said. She held on tightly to Tyrek's arm. She remembered him well. He was one of King Robert's squires. He was rather comely and handsome, but a very quiet and rather kind for a Lannister. "Here. Take this" Daven said to Tyrek handing him a sword. "Is -Isn't this Joffrey's sword? Lion's Paw?" Tyrek asked. "Yup. Almost forgot I had it. You'll be needing that" Daven said. She remembered it well. Daven had taken it off of Joffrey and then asked if he thought if he was worthy of being a knight.

"Where are we going?" Sansa asked. "The ports. There's a small ship there that belongs to me" Daven said. "A ship? Where are we sailing off to?" Tyrek asked. "My home. We'll be safe there. In Dragonstone" Daven said. They got to the ship rather quickly and made off to Dragonstone. She couldn't believe it. She was out of the Red Keep. Just as they docked, they were greeted by a sum of guards.

"Who goes there," the lead guard demanded. "Daven Baratheon, firstborn son of Lord Stannis Baratheon and Delena Florent. These people are my companions." The prince replied with a smirk. "Now stand aside Ser." "Prince Daven is dead. Murdered by the gracious King Joffrey," the guard snapped." How do we know you are who you say you are?" Daven's eyes flared at being questioned in such a before he could say anything a familiar face came forward. "At ease," a kind voice called out. The guards turned around and turned their attention to the other guard. A very familiar face. "I'd recognize my cousin anywhere, you should remember your manners ser."said the voice. The guards tensed up and backed away. "Apologies my prince," the boy said. "Come here" Daven said, hugging the boy. "It's good to see you again, Edric" Daven replied. Edric? So, this was the brother Gendry talked about; Edric Storm. He was quite handsome. With the obvious exception of the ears, he looked almost like him.

"Who are these people with you?" Edric asked. "My apologies. This is Lady Sansa Stark. And this is Tyrek Lannister." Edric greeted them all rather warmly with the exception of Tyrek. He seemed rather cold toward him. He must have heard about what happened to Gendry. That must be why; he must blame the Lannisters as much as anyone. As they made their way inside the castle, they were then approached by another man. He was a stout, homely man with a broad nose and a double chin. "Uncle Axell" Daven greeted. "Daven? Gods be good, is that truly you?" the man asked. Daven then came to the man and was greeted with a warm hug. "We thought you were dead, boy!" Axell said. "For a moment, I thought I would be too. Gendry and the gold cloaks that did die were not so lucky" Daven said. "Well, this ought to put Shireen out of the funk she's in" Axell said. "I'll show you to your rooms. But right now, I need to see someone important" Daven said.

She then felt compelled to go with him. As he and Sansa ascended the stairs, she began to hear a soft voice singing. Quietly, Daven entered the room Looking around he saw that the walls were covered in various drawings of dragons and birds. She saw a young girl lying on the bed drawing in a book and singing

"_It's always summer_

_Under the sea_

_I know I know oh oh oh._

_The birds have scales_

_And the fish take wing_

_I know I know-."_

"Oh oh oh," Daven sang out. The girl then whirled around to see who spoke. "Daven," she cried out happily, tears forming in her eyes. She leapt off the bed and launched herself into Daven's arms. In response he lifted her off the floor and began twirling her around. In turn, the young girl squealed in delight. He set her down and stroked her hair affectionately. Seeing this made her miss her family even more. "You've grown a bit little fawn." he told her. "Father said that the people in the capitol killed you. I knew it couldn't be true" "Oh, they almost did. But those lions are no match for me" Daven said, smiling. "Oh, Lady Sansa. I didn't even notice you there. Lady Sansa, this is my sister, Shireen. Shireen, this is Lady Sansa Stark" Daven said, introducing them. "You were my cousin Gendry's betrothed. I'm very sorry for what happened to him. He was a good person, kind too. I think you and him would make a great king and queen" Shireen said. "Thank you, your grace" Sansa said, curtsying.

Daven then showed her to her room. She still couldn't believe it. He made good on his word. She was free from Queen Cersei and King Joffrey.

**Gendry**

He loved it. He hated that he loved it but it was a nice life. No one in Dorne knew just who he was. The moment he came to Planky Town, he managed to find work in a small forge. Someone then recommended him to work for Lords Lucias and Luceon Dryland, the Lords of Hellgate Hall and Protectors of the Brimstone. It was a good thing no one he knew could be here.

Here in Dorne, he was simply Selwyn Storm and no one cared. He began to imagine a simpler life he could have lead. Maybe he would have been content being a bastard. A Waters, Flowers, Rivers. At the moment, he was a Storm much like his brother. He then began to think of everyone else again. His mind rushed back to Sansa with her beautiful flowing red hair. To Jon who would be the greatest knight in the realm, and Lord Commander of his Kingsguard. His brother Tommen with the Warrior's frame fighting whatever enemies they'd face. Edric, who would fight right beside him and swim along the coast of Shipbreaker Bay. Myrcella. Sweet Myrcella who dreamed of being with a knight. He remembered his promise that he would be that knight for her.

"Selwyn" Lord Luceon said. "Yes, m'lord?" Gendry asked, trying to sound as lowborn as possible. "We are sending you to Sunspear." Lord Lucias said. "Sunspear? Why send me to Sunspear?" he asked. "We told Prince Doran of your work and shown him. He wants to meet you for himself. You're to go in the morning" Lord Lucias said. Sunspear? Oh, let the Seven help me. If Arianne Martell asked me, he'll have to leave immediately.

He departed and made it to Sunspear within two days time. Though, he was immediately sent to the Water Gardens. "My Prince" he said, bowing sternly. The place was so grand and beautiful. "Rise. You are the blacksmith Lord Lucias and Luceon have bragged about. Ser Selwyn Storm?" Doran asked. "Yes. Though, I'm not a Ser, my Prince. I'm just a smithy" Gendry said. "Of course. The blades and armour you have crafted are amazing. A young companion of mine said that she recognized your work. I'd like for you to meet her." Her? Arianne Martell? No, she couldn't have known about his smithing. "Um. Of course, my prince. Is she here?" Gendry asked.

"Yes. She is right here in the Water Gardens, with my youngest son Trystane. Areo, send for her, will you?" Prince Doran motioned to the large Norvoshi. Within a moment or so, Gendry felt himself nervous. But he was then surprised. Right in front of him stood a very beautiful growing young woman with blonde curls and glowing green eyes.

"GENDRY!" Myrcella cried out in joy, leaping into his arms. "M-Myrcella? W-What are you doi - " "You're alive! You're alive! I knew it. I knew you wouldn't leave me!" Myrcella cried out. "So, the crown prince of Westeros has graciously entered my home. Forgive me, your grace" Doran said. "I'm not a crown prince. I don't have the luxury to be called anything. Many people believe me to be dead." Gendry said. "Yes, I know. The people have begun to call you The King That Could Have Been" Doran said.

The King That Could Have Been. It sounded strange to him. "Fortunately, I can't be King now. Everyone believes I'm dead. If I just show up back to the Red Keep, then my brother could more than easily say that I'm a Baratheon bastard trying to usurp his claim." Gendry said. "You're not a bastard though. You're my brother. The best brother and best man I've ever known" Myrcella cried into his shoulder. Gendry then placed a small kiss on his sister's cheek. "Just what are you doing here, Myrcella?" Gendry asked. "I'm betrothed to Prince Trystane Martell." Myrcella chirped out. "Are you happy here?" he asked. "Yes. I'm even more happier now that you're here" Myrcella said, now renewing the hug stronger than before.

"I don't think I'll b- " "Of course, you'll be allowed to stay. Princess Myrcella, may I have a word with your brother?" Doran asked. Myrcella simply nodded. "I recall from your last visit to Dorne, you asked for my daughter's hand in marriage. And before I could do or say anything, my brother chased you away." Doran said. "I humbly apologize for my actions, my prince. I was fairly young the last time I was here, and believed myself to be in love with your daughter" Gendry nervously said. "Yes. My daughter is known to have that effect. Tell me this, my prince, if you could reclaim your throne, what would you do?" Doran said. This was strange. The one thing Tywin Lannister taught him was not to cast judgement on anyone to easily. Doran seemed rather calm throughout his speech. What is he playing at? "I'd think that I'd strike down my brother" Gendry answered. "Strike down your own kin, your flesh and blood. But if what Stannis Baratheon has claimed, then he is no true kin to you, nor a true king. Please, stay. Allow your sister this happiness" Doran said. He had heard the rumours. That would explain just how Joffrey is. It didn't matter though, he was never a brother. But Tommen and Myrcella were the most sweetest children ever. He is glad to be their brother.

Dinner with the Martells was rather strange. He had known of the Sand Snakes but he never actually met them. Obella Sand was a rather fierce warrior woman as was her sister Nymeria Sand. Tyene Sand and Arianne Martell kept on giving him strange seductive looks. Elia Sand and her brother Lucos, Oberyn's only bastard son, seemed weary of him. Trystane seemed rather uneasy reasonably. "Princess Myrcella told us that you were knighted by Barristan the Bold and you could be a great knight. Do you believe yourself to be so?" Obella asked. "I wouldn't say that I'm the greatest knight but I trained under Ser Barristan. I only hope I could be a great and true a knight he was" Gendry said. "So, you would do everything that befits a true knight then?" Tyene purred. "I would" Gendry said stiffly. "Are you a knight?" Trystane asked nervously. "He was. Ser Barristan knighted him himself!" Myrcella happily chirped out. Gendry felt himself smile at this. "Do you just use a sword?" Elia asked. "No, not really. I've been trained to wield all sorts of weapons by my uncle Stannis. I even brought my valyrian steel ax with me if you want to see it" Gendry offered.

_That may have been the most uncomfortable thing I've ever sat through_, he thought. Just as he was about to go to his chambers, he began to hear something. "Simply have patience, brother. We shall have our revenge and get back at the Lannisters for what they have done" "I am weary of patience. Too long has the blood of my sister and niece and nephew cried out for vengeance. Do you not feel their loss? Every night I hear their screams for justice. Do you not hear their cries?" It was Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn. "Let me kill the boy at least" Oberyn said. He's talking about me. "What good would that do? All of the Seven Kingdoms believe him to be dead" Doran said. "He is a Baratheon and Lannister. A combination of both of the men I have wanted dead for all these years" Oberyn said. "Again, I say, what good what will it do? Besides, he's nothing like either one. From what I have heard and seen, Gendry Baratheon is a skilled warrior as befits his name and has the strategic mind of a Lannister. He could be a deadly man. A deadly man who is overhearing what we say" Doran said. How did he know?

Suddenly, the door opened and the huge Norvoshi grabbed him by his shirt collar. "Areo! Let him go." Doran commanded. "What have you heard?" Oberyn said menacingly. He wasn't called the Red Viper of Dorne without reason. "Not much. Except how much you want to kill me and have your revenge" Gendry said. "Liar" "Oberyn! Stop. Like I was trying to mention, the boy does not strike me as a liar." Doran said, bringing the Viper to heel. "You told me that you would strike down your brother. Would you strike him down for what he is, or because he stole your crown from you?" Doran asked. "I'd strike him down for being the malevolent little boy he's always been, and for bringing the kingdoms to ruin" Gendry said, gritting his teeth. Gods, he felt like Stannis now.

"Do you detect a lie in his voice, Oberyn? Now, former prince Gendry, what if I told you of a way to cast down your brother by bringing anew a dynasty that perished?" Doran asked. A dynasty that perished? "Surely, you don't plan on sending him to her? She would do what I had said?!" Oberyn said. Her? "Daenerys Targaryen? You want to bring the Targaryens?" Gendry asked. "We have wanted justice for a long time, former prince" Doran said. "And if I had any say in this, I would have gladly given it to you. And I will" Gendry said. Doran and Oberyn looked shocked. "My father was good man. But he was a terrible king. I'm not certain that I would be the greatest king that lived, but I know I would do the best I can" Gendry said. He then knelt before them. "Let me help you. I will find Daenerys Targaryen and bring her dynasty back" Gendry said. "How do we know it's not a trick?" Oberyn said. "You want justice for your sister and your niece and nephew. I've been taught all my life what it means to be just. The fact that my father would condone these atrocities means that no justice would ever happen. I would gladly pledge my life to your cause" Gendry said. "You'll need a ship. The _Sandswept_ shall be given to you. Not a grand ship but it will take you to where you need to go. My sources tell me that she heads to Slaver's Bay" Doran said.

He then went to his chamber and packed. He then went to Myrcella's chamber. Gods, she looks so peaceful. I don't want to leave her, but once I'm back, Westeros will be a safer place for it. He then left a note and gently kissed her on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, little sister" he whispered and then left. As he exited, Arianne Martell approached him. "So, you are leaving. I believed you were going to enter my chambers once again?" Arianne suggested. "I'd rather not." Gendry said. Arianne looked at him quizzically. He then turned his head to her. "May I ask you of a favor?" Gendry said. "Of course, former prince" Arianne said. "Protect my sister. Look after her. If I hear that she is harmed in any way, I will gladly sail back here and destroy everyone and everything you hold dear" Gendry said. Arianne now looked scared. "Of course, ... Gendry. I'm rather fond of Myrcella" Arianne said. "And tell her this. Tell her that I'm sorry that I can't stay. Tell her, that she and my brother Tommen will always be in my heart, no matter what" Gendry said, choking back a sob. "Of course" Arianne said.

The smell of the sea was amazing. Be safe Myrcella, Tommen. I'll come back for you.

**So, yeah, I've provided you with so many sappy moments. Denys and his son have both perished in battle. Sansa is free from Joffrey and Cersei but something will come to threaten that. Gendry has now gone off to find Daenerys to end Joffrey's reign. I've been working out a timeline to see how the majority of these events would work out in more of a reference to the book itself. This is for my own intents and purposes and personal use, I own nothing.**

**Year Month #**

279 10 Stannis Baratheon and Jeyne Swann marry

280 11 Dyanna and Jena Baratheon are born

281 11 Tourney at Harrenhal

282 2 Ashara Dayne sent back to Starfall

282 4 Lyanna Stark taken from the Riverlands

282 5 Brandon Stark arrives in KL

282 5 Rickard Stark summoned to KL

282 7 Rickard Stark arrives in King's Landing, nearly everyone executed

282 7 letter arrives in Eyrie with the order for Jon Arryn to kill Eddard and Robert a week later

282 7 The rebellion starts

282 8 Battle of Gulltown, Ned and Robert go to raise their banners

282 10 Battle of Summerhall

282 12 Battle of Ashford

282 12 Lord Jeffory Dayne, father of Arron, Arthur, Ashara, and Allyria Dayne dies in combat

282 12 Siege of Storm's End begins

283 1 Battle of the Bells

283 1 Ursula Elesham dies; Clifford Arryn is born

283 1 Ned Stark/Catelyn Tully wed, Denys Arryn/Lysa Tully wed

283 3 Samwell Tarly born

283 4 Battle of the Trident

283 5 Queen Rhaella Targaryen and Viserys sent to Dragonstone

283 7 Sack of King's Landing

283 7 Margaery Tyrell born

283 8 Robard and Armond Baratheon are born; Jeyne Swann dies of a fever

283 8 Jon, son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, born

283 9 Siege of Storm's End is lifted

283 9 Skirmish at the Tower of Joy, Lyanna dies; Ned visits Starfall

283 10 Robb Stark and Raymont Arryn are born

284 2 Catelyn and Robb head north

284 2 Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister wed

284 2 Daenerys Targaryen Born

284 3 Elbert Arryn and Mina Tyrell wed

284 4 Catelyn and Robb arrive in Winterfell

284 10 Gendry Baratheon is born

285 1 Stannis Baratheon and Delena Florent wed

285 3 Euron Greyjoy is born

285 3 Osbert Arryn born

285 5 Androw Arryn is born

285 10 Daven Baratheon and Edric Storm are born

286 2 Joffrey Baratheon, is born

286 5 Cassella Dayne, is born

286 7 Janna and Rhea Arryn are born

286 12 Sansa Stark is born

287 4 Trystane Martell is born

287 5 Tywell and Qyle Arryn are born

287 6 Edrick Dayne is born

288 11 Greyjoy Rebellion begins

289 1 Ned leaves Winterfell to fight against the Greyjoys

289 3 Arya Stark is born

289 4 Corwyn and Artos Arryn are born

289 5 Shireen Baratheon is born

289 5 Arron Dayne is killed in the Battle of Pyke

289 6 Greyjoy Rebellion ends

289 9 Ned returns to Winterfell with Theon Greyjoy

290 6 Myrcella, and Tommen Baratheon, is born

290 7 Brandon (Bran) Stark is born

292 3 Robin Arryn is born

292 5 Ethan and Olene Arryn are born

292 6 Dorea Sand is born

292 10 Rickon Stark is born

294 4 Loreza Sand is born

295 10 Pearse Baratheon is born

295 11 Roland, Willam, and Axel Baratheon are born

295 11 Alynne Connington dies


	16. Chapter 16

**299 AC**

**Arya**

She had been practicing with Jon. She couldn't believe that he was actually here. She told him everything that happened. How she and the others travelled with Yoren to be escorted to Winterfell. How Jory met up with them and both Yoren and Jory died at the hands of Amory Lorch and his men. Jon didn't seem to mind the tales. In fact, he simply held her tighter and vowed that he will never leave her behind ever again. She knew he wouldn't. Arya could always count on Jon.

The Brotherhood had been very friendly to them both. Seeing as their father had essentially created the group. "Arya!" Jon called out to her. "What is it?" She asked. "You had forgotten something of yours" Jon said. Forgot something? What was he talking about? Jon then took out something from his sword-belt and gave it to her. I thought I lost this, she thought. "Needle! How did yo - " "Don't lose it again." Jon said. "I won't" Arya promised.

It was a true promise. Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile. She would never be parted from it again. "And, here. I found it in an old castle. You'll want to practice with this as well as your Needle" Jon said. Jon then handed her a new sword; a Valyrian steel sword. The scabbard for this Valyrian steel sword had been made of ironwood and gilded steel with a sword belt of rich, black leather. Much like the scabbard he had made for Dark Sister, it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. The grip was made of ironwood as well but what was interesting was the pommel. It was made of weirwood and in the shape of a falling star. The blade itself was an icy-blue color and shone resplendently in the light. "Frost." she whispered the name for her new sword.

Edrick Dayne was a very interesting person. He was shy from her and Jon at first but he is very good-natured. Nothing about the boy seemed bad at all. What was strange was how he liked to be called Ned. My father's name. He told her of an apparent romance that occurred between his aunt Ashara Dayne and her father. How she possibly killed herself after the war because her heart was broken. It didn't seem like he was lying but Harwin later told her that at the time that her father was not betrothed to her mother, as she was at the time betrothed to her uncle Brandon. He claimed that she died of the grief of her fallen brother, Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard: the Sword of the Morning. Nevertheless, she enjoyed conversing with him.

"So, you won't inherit the castle then?" Jon asked. "No, Starfall would go to my older sister, Cassella. Because she's older" Ned explained. "But you're the first-born son!" Colen exclaimed. "Dorne's laws are different. You just have to be born first. Boy, girl, doesn't matter" Ned explained. I think I'd like Dorne, she thought to herself. Maybe if Winterfell was in Dorne and she were eldest, she would have it. "I could take you all there after the war's over. Oh, Dawn! I can show you guys Dawn!" Ned exclaimed. "Dawn? Does the sun set differently in Dorne?" Colen asked. Stupid. "He's talking about Dawn, House Dayne's legendary sword." Jon explained to the boy. "You're a smith. How do you not know about Dawn?" she mocked. Colen simply stuck out his tongue. "I could even show you Starfall's heart tree!" Ned said to Jon.

"You have a heart tree?" she asked, her interest peaked. "Of course. My house has the blood of the First Men coursing through our veins. The heart tree has been a part of House Dayne since we were Kings of the Torrentine. I'm almost certain that House Dayne or House Dondarrion could rule King's Landing as much as House Targaryen or House Baratheon. We have much of blood right over it as well." Ned said. "Ughh. I'm tired of hearing that. That's all I ever heard day in and day out of the Tobho Mott's shop. Whose blood was royal to sit on that god awful chair." Colen said. Very well said. "You must be lying now" Jon said. "I don't jest. The wife of King Maekar I was Dyanna Dayne. The wife of Baelor Breakspear was Jena Dondarrion if memory serves me well. My great-grandfather Harron married King Aegon V's sister Daella, and his other sister Rhae married Lord Beric's great-great grandfather Geoff Dondarrion. Not to mention, my grandmother was a cousin to the Martells." he explained.

Nothing. She detected nothing of deceit of his voice. "What would you do if you were king?" He asked Jon. "I-I don't know what I would do if I were King. I'd probably restore Flea Bottom first." Jon said. "Why? Why care for Flea Bottom?" Colen said, interested about it. "There are people living there too. Some high-borns are so far up their arses that they forget about the others as well" Jon said. He could be a great king.

"C'mon, lads. We should head back now." Thoros of Myr said. Suddenly, she felt herself blindfolded. "Is this really necessary?" Jon asked. "'Fraid so, lads" Anguy said. "This is ridiculous. I know just where we're goin'" Lyman Darry complained. "Then shut up. Its better for the others that they don't know where they're going!" Tom O' Sevenstreams said. Suddenly, she saw what looked to be a cave of some sort and what appeared to be weirwood roots coming out of it. "Just where are we?" Colen asked. "An old place, deep and secret. A refuge where neither wolves nor lions come prowling" said Lemoncloak, or Pisscloak or whatever he's called.

Suddenly, they removed the hood of a person who was already there. She remembered him. That huge and heavily-muscled man. The right side of his face was gaunt, with sharp cheekbones and a heavy brow. His nose is large and hooked, his long hair is dark and thin and brushed so that it covers the left side since no hair grows there. The left side of his face is a ruin with no ear but only a hole. There was a twisted mass of scar around his good left eye. Slick black flesh is pocked with craters and deep cracks that ooze red and wet. Sandor Clegane, the Hound.

"Ya look like a bunch of swine herders" the Hound snarled out. "Some of us were swine herders, and tanners and stone masons." Anguy said. "You're still swine herders, and tanners and stone masons. You think that carrying a crooked spear makes you a soldier?" He snarled out again. "No, fighting in a war makes you a soldier" said a man with an eye patch and a breastplate with a forked purple lightning bolt. Another man then approached with a leaping trout in a heart of fire on his breastplate. "Beric Dondarrion. You've seen better days." "Not many of us will be seeing better days" said the red-haired man with the burning fish.

"Stark deserters. Baratheon deserters. You're all not fighting in a war, you're running from it!" the Hound stated. "And last I heard, you were Prince, no, King Joffrey's guard dog. Yet here you are, a thousand miles away from your home. Which one of us is really running?" Beric said. "Untie these ropes and you'll find out! What're you doin' leading a mob of peasants?" "Ned Stark ordered us to execute your brother in King Robert's name" the "Burnt Trout" said. "Ned Stark is dead. King Robert is dead. My brother is much alive. You're fighting for ghosts" the Hound spat out. "That's what we are: ghosts. Waiting for you in the dark. You can't see us, but we see you. No matter whose cloak you wear: Lannister, Stark, Baratheon, you prey on the weak, the Brotherhood Without Banners will hunt you down." Beric Dondarrion said. "Ya found God, that it?" "Aye. The Lightning Lord and I have been reborn in the light of the one true god. As we all have. As any man whose seen the things we have" the "Burnt Trout" said.

"If ya mean to murder me, bloody well get on with it!" the Hound said, annoyed and possibly bored out of his mind. "You'll die soon enough, dog. But it won't be murder, only justice" Thoros of Myr said. "A kinder fate than you deserve. Especially considering that your brother put my family and castle to the sword! I'd be dead had it not been for these ghosts you're so eager to mock!" Lyman Darry uttered. "Lions you call yourselves. At the Mummer's Ford, girls of seven years were raped. Babes still at their mother's breast were cut in two while their mothers watched!" Anguy the Archer said. "I wasn't at the Mummer's Ford. Dump your dead children were at some other door!" "House Clegane was built on dead children. I saw how they laid Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon before the Iron Throne" Thoros said.

"Do you take me for my brother? Is being born a Clegane a crime?" he snarled out. "Murder is a crime!" "I never touched the Targaryen babes! I never saw them! Never smelt them, never heard them bawling! Ya want to cut my throat, get on with it! But don't call me murderer and pretend you're not" he said. "You murdered Mycah! The butcher's boy, my friend. He was twelve years old, unarmed and you rode him down! Slung him over your horse like he was game!" Arya cried out. If they were her father's men, than she wanted to see the justice they passed on to these criminals. "Quite the bleeder he was" he said. "You don't deny killing that boy?" Beric Dondarrion said. "I was Prince Joffrey's sworn shield. He attacked him" he replied. "That's a lie! I hit him. Mycah just ran off!" Arya cried out again. "Then I should have struck you down. Not my place to question the prince" he said.

"You stand accused of murder. But no one here knows the truth of the charge, so it is not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light will do that. I sentence you to a trial by combat" the Lighting Lord said. "Who's it gonna be? Should we find out if you're fire god really loves you, Thoros? Or you, archer? You worth a sword in your hand? Is the girl the bravest one here?" he snarled out. Jon then began to step forward, ready to fight him. "No, Jon. You have yet to experience things you should. The girl and the boy may be the bravest ones among us. But you'll be facing me, Lord Thaddeus of House Tully. And your death is of the utmost certainty, dog!" the "Burnt Trout" said.

She then realized who the man was. Lord Thaddeus Tully, the man her father and everyone in Robert's Rebellion called the Terror of the Trident. His bravery in the field of battel was legendary as much as his sword skills. But the red hair on his head that was fabled to glow like fire seemed brittle. As he knelt, he and Thoros of Myr began to recite a prayer of some kind and the others responded as well. Thoros then handed him a blade which he used to cut himself with. He then pressed his hand on the blade and passed it on it, flames now burst forth from it. Arya then saw the fearsome Hound begin to quiver in fear. Their duel then began. He was called the Terror of the Trident with reason: every swing was filled with deadly precision and power. And yet, the Hound managed to avoid them. Both of them were fighting with equal ferocity. Thaddeus Tully then swung hard and true onto his shield, setting it ablaze. The Brotherhood then began to chant "Judge him!" Unfortunately, in his fear, he had cut him down. Thoros and Beric then went to him, saying some sort of chant. Was this just? A killer gets to walk free? She then grabbed a knife off someone and began to run to him, wanting to cut him down. "ARYA, STOP!" Ned, Jon and Colen shouted, restraining her. "Let me go!" she kept shouting. "It looks like that fire god likes me more than your butcher's boy" the Hound mocked. "BURN IN HELL!" she cried out. "Arya, calm down" Jon said, soothing her a bit. "He will. But not today" someone said. She then realized it was her uncle now risen from dead.

**Tyrion**

Madness. Madness and stupidity. The attack was more than likely to test the city's defenses. Well, whatever it was it worked. The City's defenses are well under manned. Now that Renly had died, the Reach will more than likely declare for Stannis. Stannis's eldest son is just as loved in the Reach as much as Renly.

Oh, we are fucked. Truly, truly fucked. Gods, I wish Gendry were on the throne. We wouldn't be in this mess had he not decided to drown himself. Or did he? He knew the boy well enough, and he more than likely didn't drown himself. Tyrion knew the boy well and knew that there was not a lot of love between the two. Sure, he was the pride and joy of Robert's but that wasn't the same case for Gendry. He was less likely like his father than everyone knew.

He recalled once taking the boy to a whorehouse and he seemed to shy away from the woman. "By the gods Gendry, if I had a face like yours, I'd hide it from no wench!" he said. Still, it wasn't that he wasn't interested in girls. He was interested, kept staring at them but didn't really do anything. Now I have to deal with most vicious and idiotic king the realm has ever known.

He made his way into the small council chamber. "Alright then, why have you called this meeting, sweet sister?" he asked. "She escaped" she uttered. "Who? Who escaped?" he asked. "Sansa Stark. Our King Joffrey's betrothed!" Baelish said. Something about Baelish seemed strange. He noticed the panic that seeped into his eyes as she mentioned her. "How did she escape?" Tyrion asked. "She must have escaped during the attack. My little birds have heard nothing of her whereabouts" Varys said. "Where could the traitor's daughter have run off to? She has no friends" Pycelle sputtered. Gods, how he hated that Cersei's insistence for that sputtering fool's return. "She more than likely headed off to her family in Riverrun" Kevan Lannister said.

"What are we going to do now?" Cersei said. "Stannis Baratheon will come to the city now in any day. And he'll have the entirety of the Stormlands, the Vale and the Reach" Tyrion said. "Why would the Reach want anything to do with Stannis? Other than the Florents, they have no love for him" Baelish answered. "Perhaps not for him, but his eldest son Robard is known and loved there, as much as Renly was. My little birds have told me that he and Margaery Tyrell engaged in a tryst or two when he was sent there to foster. By the order of King Robert" Varys said. "Stannis Baratheon will never allow his son to marry Margaery Tyrell. The man hates Mace Tyrell and won't want to do anything with him" Cersei said.

"That may be, Cersei. But as stubborn as Stannis Baratheon is, he has more sense than Renly. He'll more than likely put aside his pride and do what needs to be done. Marry his son to her" Kevan sighed. He noticed the sadness in his voice. He missed **his** sons. "But it's as you said. He's just as prideful as Renly is. And we need to take it down. Uncle Kevan, how many fighting men can you assemble?" Tyrion asked. "At least a good 2,000. What do you plan on doing?" Kevan said. "Wounding his Baratheon pride. Gather the men you can. We march on Dragonstone"

**Sansa**

It was fairly peaceful in Dragonstone. The Painted Table was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. It was more than fifty feet long: roughly twenty-five feet wide at its widest point and four feet at its thinnest. Aegon's Garden was very peaceful. She absolutely loved just how tall the trees were and the smell of wild roses, cranberries and pine. As she made her way around the castle, she heard some faint arguing.

"It's not his fault, Edric!"  
"He's a Lannister, that's all that matters!"  
"I'm not the one who put a hit out on Gendry, dumb fuck!"  
Edric was picking a fight with Tyrek Lannister and Daven was trying to stop him. "Edric. Edric, stop!" Daven said sternly. "I'm not like the other Lannisters" Tyrek said firmly. Sansas then spoke up. "What makes you so different from them?" "I learned everything about everything from my cousin Tyrion. Almost everyone hates him because he's a dwarf that enjoys whoring and drinking. And Gendry was the most honorable man I knew. I respected him as much as my cousin. Queen Cersei is always going on about how our family is the greatest thing since water was discovered. And she always seems to think that the Lannisters must come first. She does not realise it takes more than one family to rule a realm. At least that is what cousin Tyrion said. Most of my family are the same, all about the family name and how Lannisters are supposedly better than everyone else." She was surprised by this. And he was right about Tyrion, he's a good man. "What made you different then Tyrek? You are a Lannister, and your father was a fierce fighter was he not? Tygett Lannister, the Angry Lion" Daven said. "There was not a chance that I could end up like my cousins. Not that I would want to anyway, there is too much wrong with their way of thinking to sit well with me. Being a Lannister is like constantly being at war. And you forget, Gendry also had Lannister blood in him too. You gonna hate him too?" Tyrek said. Edric's scowl at him lessened.

"No. I could never hate Gendry" Edric said in a soft voice. He then left in a huff. She then followed him. "You really miss him, don't you?" Sansa said. "I do. Every day. I always wanted a father. I wrote to King Robert every day. But Gendry responded. He came to visit a couple of times. He was exactly how I thought my father looked like. But he was better. Robert didn't care for me, he probably didn't even remember me. But he did. Gendry never ignored me or pretended not to know me. He spent time with me and trained with me. He even gave me gifts" Edric said. He then pulled out a small warhammer. "He got it for me when on my ninth nameday. He knew I liked the story of our father's rebellion and had made the hammer for me personally" Edric said, sadness echoed throughout his voice.

"He was a good person. But why do you hate Tyrek? His family didn't do anything to Gendry" Sansa said. "The Lannisters are one of the most powerful and richest families ever. The one thing Ser Cortnay Penrose taught me: never trust a Lannister. They more than likely had him killed to place Joffrey on the throne. Or Joffrey did it himself, hired some people to do it" Edric scowled. "You're right about that" Sansa said. Edric now looked up at her. "Daven told me that several gold cloaks came and took him and Gendry to the docks. And that they drowned him" Sansa said. "What did I tell you? Scum. The whole lot of them" "Tyrek seems like a good person" "Well, there's bound to be a diamond in that pile of shit family. He's alright, I guess" Edric said.

Suddenly she laughed. Edric then smiled. His smile was lovely. "He talked about you. In the last letter he sent me. But the letter doesn't do you justice to your real beauty" Edric said. "He wrote about me?" Sansa blushed. "Yes. Said that he was lucky to have met a rare Northern beauty" Edric said. Suddenly, he began to slump to the wall. "I miss him. He was my brother. My brother" Edric said. He was then beginning to cry. She understood. He lost a brother, his best friend, his only friend. She then wrapped her arms around him to comfort him. Edric then began to cry harder and into her shoulder. She tried to soothe him. He then looked at her sadly. She could feel the moisture of his tears dripping on then nape of her dress. Suddenly, she began to lean in closer than before, their faces closer now. He then kissed her. It was shy and tentative the way he would press one kiss to me before hesitating and then pressing another. His lips made my own tingle and when he pulled away again I opened my eyes to find him looking at me again.

Suddenly, Daven and Tyrek barged in. "Edric! Come on, get your sword and armor!" Daven cried out. "What is it? What's happening?" Edric said, jumping up and wiping off his tears. "Lannister forces have arrived on the shores. They're attacking!" Daven said. "You sold us out, didn't you!" Edric cried out, pointing to Tyrek. "I've been with you guys the entire time! How could I tell them? Besides, they probably think I'm dead" Tyrek said. Edric then took the armor from his room and began to put it on.

Sansa could hear the battle raging on as she sat in her rooms, she couldn't see anything from the window, it faced the wrong way. She desperately wanted to know what was happening, who was winning, but then Edric and the others had told her to stay in her room and not leave. He had come to her in the small hours and shaken her awake to tell her he believed the Lannister's were trying to take them by surprise. She had been confused, as to why they would be attacking Dragonstone. It seemed that she had not escaped their clutches as she had hoped. She knelt at the foot of her bed then, glancing once more out of the window before she closed her eyes and pleaded with the old Gods and the new for a Northern victory. How long she prayed she didn't know, but eventually the sounds of men roaring grew nearer and she could hear war horns blaring out. She opened her eyes then, her hands shaking as she got to her feet and stared at the door, waiting to see if it was friend or foe who would burst through it.

She then heard a commotion in the hallway and she could stay still no longer, she had to know what was going on. She threw open the door and her relief at seeing Auric, Tyrek and two other soldiers carrying someone suspended between them.

"What happened?!" she gasped out, staring in horror at Edric.

"He's wounded, badly too," Tyrek grunted, "we need to get him to his chambers"

"They are far, please, use mine!" she insisted, moving aside so they could carry him in.

"Where's the maester!" Daven said desperately as they lay him down.

"Pylos is already tending to the other wounded. We could send for one," Tyrek suggested.

"Are you mad? They would never get here in time!"

"Where is the wound?" Sansa asked.

"His left side," one of the soldiers said. "Let me have a look," she said calmly, walking to his side and carefully unbuckling his armour.

One of the men came forward to help her pull it away and she saw the bloodstain on his tunic, he had been caught right where there was a gap in his armour. It was a very good hit by whoever had struck him, but not good for Edric, who was laying completely still and unconscious. Sansa took a steadying breath and tore the tunic away, it ripped easily, allowing her to see exactly what damage had been done. The wound looked clean and not too deep and she breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that she just about had the skill to fix it.

She had been at Maester Luwin's side enough at Winterfell when he had patched up one of the boys when their sparring sessions got out of hand. "I need hot water and bandages, and if there is Milk of the Poppy bring it," she ordered.

"Yes my Lady," one of the soldiers said. He then bowed shortly to her before leaving the room. Edric began to stir awake as Sansa gently cleansed his wound, flinching in surprise when he realised who was tending to him. "I'm sorry," she apologised at once, "I'm trying to be as careful as I can, I didn't mean to hurt you"

"You didn't," he said groggily, "I was just surprised to see you is all"

"You are lucky, the wound isn't deep," she told him, carefully padding it dry.

"How long will I be away from the battlefield?" he joked.

"Until I say it's better," she smiled, "and there is no need to worry, the battle is won"

"Good," he groaned as she pressed a compress to the wound.

"Daven came when you were unconscious,they drove them all away," she told him.

"Gods be good," he whispered as she pulled a length of bandage under his back to secure the compress in place."Try not to move too much," she warned him as she tied it tightly.

"I'll do whatever you want my Lady," he chuckled and she smiled. "Drink this then," she said, handing him a cup."Milk of the Poppy?" he questioned as he took a sniff of it."Yes," she confirmed, "drink it all down you need to rest if you want to heal

**Gendry**

Gods, he didn't think that he would crash the ship. It was intact, but he had no idea as to where the hell he was. The first thing he noticed was the taste of salt and sand in his mouth, and the cold breeze sending chills in his water soaked soaked could be paradise, he thought. He slowly opened his eyes to avoid direct glare of the sun, and found himself lying face down on a sandy shore. He got up and dusted off sand from his wet clothes, and observed his surroundings. It appeared to be an uninhibited land, but the vegetation was very dense, far denser than he had noticed anywhere. Maybe even the Reach.

He then concluded that he could be somewhere close to Slaver's Bay. Suddenly, he felt his stomach growl, and that was when he realized how hungry he was. He got up from the sand, and started walking away from the sea. He looked around for food, and all he could see was a diverse array of trees growing all over the island. Grand Maester Pycelle had once told him that some trees have poisonous sap, and one should know whether a plant is poisonous before eating any part of it. Gendry was in luck. There were many familiar fruit trees there; plums, apricots and many others which Gendry couldn't recognize. There must be some animals too in this island, Gendry realized, and another thought hit him in quick succession; that there might be some animals on this island who may take him for food.

Uncertainty hit Gendry Baratheon and he carefully made his way to the forest. He plucked a branch from the first tree he crossed, and fashioned a cudgel out of it; which might work as an instrument for plucking fruit, as well as for self defense just in case. Gendry plucked fruits, and ate to his heart's content. There was large variety of fruits, and there were peaches so sweet that they brought tears to Gendry's eyes. He collected timber from the trees and built a fire to dry his clothes. He walked in the forest, mesmerized in its beauty.

After that he scouted around for some time, exploring the new land. He saw some strange goats roaming in the forests, as well as some small animals whom Gendry inferred to be monkeys. That was the first time we was seeing them. Fascinated, Gendry approached them carefully, and the monkeys' attention turned towards. They watched him warily, their dark wide eyes wide with alert and suspicion. As he approached them further they bared their teeth at him, but that only made Jon laugh more at them.

Then all of a sudden one of them made a funny noise, like someone trying to suppress his laughter. Pretty soon the monkeys dispersed to the upper branches of the trees, now many of them making the same noise.

What was all that about, he wondered, disappointed to see the little ones go away. But his confusion was soon answered, when he heard a low growl and crackling of dry leaves from the forest. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, and saw a lion approaching him, his long pointed teeth bared and dripping with saliva.

Shit. Gendry tried a foolish attempt to shoo the beast away, but it pounced at him roaring loudly. It was foolish of him to have left behind Stormbreaker back at his encampment. Gendry sidestepped quickly, and the lion slammed against a tree behind him. Gendry ran with whatever speed his weary legs could muster, and heard the lion pursuing him with ferocity.

Gendry darted behind trees to throw the beast off its chase, but it didn't let go. He didn't know much he had ran, when he felt suddenly that legs refused to move from the ground. Off balance, he tumbled to the ground, and noticed that his leg was stuck in a huge patch of wet mud. The beast had caught up, and was now approaching him slowly, certain of its success. _I have come this far_, Gendry thought, _I won't die like this_. He dipped his hand in the mud, and to his utter surprise it fell on a sword pommel.

He pulled at it with all his might, and soon a greatsword emerged from the grey mud. The lion pounced, and Gendry buried the sword in its head, killing the beast got out of the mud, and attempted to wipe of mud off him. It won't go unless I wash it, he realized, and that was when his attention turned towards the sword.

He picked it up and examined it. Gendry recognized the dull shimmer and the light weight of Valyrian steel quickly. He noticed the hilt, and saw that the pommel had a lion head on it, with rubies for eyes. _I killed a lion with a lion_, Gendry smirked. He then realized what this sword was. The sword that the Lion King, King Tommen II of the Rock had lost. The fabled sword that his Uncle Gerion Lannister went off to find. **_Brightroar_**.

As he went back to his camp with Brightroar in hand, he heard unusual shrieks coming from above in the sky afar, getting louder every moment saw a ship approaching the bay. Gendry looked above, and saw three funny looking birds flying together, drawing near him. As they came closer, Gendry noticed that they hardly looked anything like birds. Their bodies were not slender, and wings seemed thick and full like that of a bat. _How can they be bats? Bats fly only in the night_, he thought in curiosity.

When they were quite near him, and Gendry saw that all three were differently colored. One was black, the other was green while the third one was white. One of them dived into the ocean, and came out with a fish clutched in its beak. It tossed the fish in the sky, and the next thing he saw made him fall backwards in surprise. Bright orange flames came out of the its mouth, engulfing the fish while it was still in the air. The beast then took the the fish back in his mouth, and started eating it. It can't be. He was told that all the dragons were dead. And yet there were three of them right in front of him, alive and flying and belching fire. The dragons moved fast towards the island, and Gendry stood up to run back into the forest. He didn't want to be crisped by the dragon flame. He started to run, only to fall in the sand as he tripped on a rock.

As he turned to look he saw that the dragons were flying right above him in a circle, of which he was the centre. He shielded his head, but his rational mind knew that it was useless. Dragonflame was the hottest thing in the world, and the moment these beasts breathe fire he will be burned from head to toe. But it never came. Gendry looked up to see them, but didn't find them there. He looked around, and his heart almost came up his throat when he found that they were sitting right in front of him, their eyes looking at Gendry. He looked back at them, at all three of them. The white dragon still had the half eaten fish in his mouth, which he placed in front of Gendry, urging him to eat it.

An uneasy smile cam on Gendry's face. He took the fish, and examined it. He had not ate roast meat for a long time. He bit into the fish from the other end, and was surprised at how good it tasted. The dragons made a funny sound, making him smile even more. "Where did you three come from," he asked and turned his gaze to the horizon. He saw three ships approaching the island in a row, and he easily made out the word written on the first ship. Balerion was etched on the side of it. It was the name of the dragon Aegon the Conqueror had ridden while he had conquered the Seven Kingdoms with fire and blood. The ship had anchored at the shore of the island, and three men had come out of it. Gendry watched them from afar. All of them were of copper skin, and had bound their long hair into braids. Each of them was wielding an arakh.

_Dothraki_, Gendry recognized them easily, and picked up Brightroar, the great ancestral sword of his mother's family. The three men had seen him too, and were now approaching him, arakhs unsheathed and held high. Soon they were running towards him, arakhs shining in their hands. Gendry grasped his sword with both hands, awaiting the assault. He knew the Dothraki were unreasonable people, and wouldn't stop from killing him even if he called for peace.

Another man was descending from the ship, but Gendry took no note of him. One of them shot a long whip at him, and Gendry took it on his left hand. The whip wound itself on his left hand, but he easily unwound it by cutting at the whip with his sword. But that gave enough time for another one of them to attack. He slashed at him with his arakh, and Gendry tried to parry him. He was, however, not used to fight with a greatsword. He wasn't used to the size, and strength of it. Despite the Valyrian steel. The parry was executed, but the third one attacked at the same time, knocking Brightroar out of his hand. In return Gendry pounced at him, his opponent's arakh useless in close quarters. He punched the Dothraki hard, sending him stumbling backwards.

"STOP," someone shouted, and for a few moments everyone turned towards. "Stop this madness now I command you!" He walked towards them, intent on examining the man they were fighting. Suddenly, he looked up at who was shouting. A large, balding swarthy man. Right beside him was a rather short but beautiful young woman with glowing silver-blonde hair and daunting violet eyes that shone like amethysts. Daenerys Targaryen, most likely. What surprised him was the man to her right; a tall bearded man with sad blue eyes. "Ser Barristan?" he called out. "Prince Gendry?" Suddenly, he felt something strike him at the back of the head.

**Sansa**

Sansa sat curled up in a chair, flicking absently through a book of sonnets while she waited for Edric to wake again. She cast her eyes over him every now and again. Sansa seemed to glance at him more often than was strictly necessary, her eyes lingering longer than they should on the powerful muscles of his torso. He must have trained hard every day, she thought. He mumbled slightly in his sleep then and she moved her eyes to his lips, wondering what it would be like to feel them on hers. She snapped her head back to her book then, mentally shaking herself as she tried to take her mind away from any more improper thoughts about the man sleeping in her bed.

Edric woke to Sansa redressing his wound, he breathed deeply as her soft hands brushed against his bare skin. She had been tending him for a week now and the longer he spent in her presence the more he felt his attraction for her growing. He seemed to make it his mission to keep her smiling, to hear her laugh brought more joy to him that he could , she wanted him to run his hand through her hair as she bent over him, to know and see if it felt as soft as it looked. She tried to fight the intense longing, but she couldn't deny just how handsome he was and how brave he looked with his new scars. He talked about his deep respect for her father and brother. Still, she thought, as her hand brushed his skin again, if she kept this up she was not sure how much longer she would be able to resist pulling him into herself and pressing her lips to his.

Sansa straightened up when she had finished tending to Edric and smiled at him, a small blush rising in her cheeks as he stared at her intensely. "It shouldn't need changing for another few days," she told him softly and he returned her smile.

"Thank you so much for tending to me my lady," he said seriously.

"It has been my pleasure Edric Florent," she said truthfully, the blush rising higher.

"Call me Ric, please, all my friends do" he said softly.

"Ric," she whispered, moving closer to him despite herself.

"My Lady," he whispered back, his heart accelerating as her face moved slowly toward his.

"It's Sansa," she told him, her lips so close to his now he could feel her breath on them.

"Sansa," he repeated, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek, closing the gap between their lips and kissing her gently. Her stomach twisted in knots as his lips moved with hers, barely able to breathe as she hesitantly ran her hand up his chest, settling it against his heart which was pounding furiously.

She knew she should pull away, but the longer his lips stayed on hers the harder it became for her to think clearly. Without meaning to he had pulled her down onto the bed and she was now pressed up against his uninjured side as their kiss deepened, a low moan sounding at the back of her throat making desire pulse through him. She had to stop this, she was a Lady not some serving wench he could have his way with and then forget about. She was Sansa Stark, a daughter of winter with skin as pale as milk and hair the colour of fire.

Her hand clenched in the skin of his chest then and another moan escaped her and he couldn't help but reach his hand over to find the parting in her dress. When he slipped his hand between the material to run up her leg she shivered in delight, moving her leg so that it draped over his, making it easier for him to reach his destination.

When he let his hand rest between her legs he almost growled out, she hadn't expected him to be wanting her so badly and it made him harden at once. Without thinking he pushed her so she was laying on her back, pinning her against the bed with his own weight, grunting slightly in pain at his sharp movement as he pulled aside the parting in her dress. She spread her legs willingly and his hands fumbled with his laces as she looked up at him, anticipation and a slight glimmer of fear shining in her eyes.

Sansa's heart was racing, she had heard about laying with a man but she had never done it, never even come close. She knew it was something that was supposed to be saved for the wedding night and she knew it would hurt, but right now all she knew was that her body was aching and that only Edric would be able to ease it. When he freed himself from his trousers she shuddered slightly as she saw him uncovered, knowing that he would soon be inside her, taking her maidenhead.

He positioned himself between her legs and moved his eyes to hers, her lips curving up into a small smile that wordlessly gave him her consent. He lifted her left leg up around his hip, leaving her right flat against the bed so it wouldn't aggravate his injury, before bending his head to kiss her again as he pushed slowly inside her. Sansa gasped out in surprise at the intrusion, a small cry leaving her lips as he pushed through her maidenhead, letting the length of him fill her completely. He stilled inside her for a moment, his body twitching to move but he wouldn't let it, not until her pain had eased, he didn't want to hurt her any more than he had to.

She curled a hand around his forearm then and nodded slightly for him to continue. He did as she bid, thrusting slowly at first, unable to stop himself groaning out as he revelled in how wonderful she felt around him. Slowly Sansa grew used to his thrusts, the pain melting further away each time he moved, now she felt herself wanting to cry out again, but in pleasure this time.

When the breathless cry of pleasure left her lips he lost all control, grabbing her thigh and pushing it higher up on his hip before thrusting harder, making her cry out again. He knew he should be gentler with her, that it was her first time but the blood was pounding now and when she tentatively rocked her hips in time with his he growled out, dropping his head to her neck and grazing his teeth along her soft skin as he quickened his thrusts. Sansa moved her hips to match his pace, he seemed to enjoy it when she did that, groaning against the skin of her neck and tightening his grip on her thigh as he moved even harder and faster inside her.

She was moaning out almost constantly now, the pleasure in her heightening unbearably as her stomach knotted tighter, his thrusts driving her somewhere unknown but wonderful. He felt Sansa tightening around him and he steeled himself, gripping her thigh even harder as she came undone around him, moaning out his name as she came to her end. It sounded so beautiful coming from her lips that he could hold on no longer, spilling himself inside her with a final groan of his own, trying not to crush her as he collapsed against her.

As they lay breathing hard next to one another the reality of what he had just done began seeping into Edric and he put his hands up to his face in shame. He had just taken Sansa Stark to bed. A Lady of Winterfell. Princess of the North. He groaned then and she turned her head to him; "are you in pain?" she asked.

"No, but I will be once your brother gets his hands on me," he said.

"He doesn't have to know," she whispered and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Sansa I have taken your maidenhead, I have dishonoured you and your family," he told her.

"But … I let you, I wanted you to … I …" she stuttered out.

"I know," he said soothingly, "but I should never have let it go so far, by the Gods Sansa, what if I've got you with child?! What if I've put a bastard in you?!" he exclaimed.

"I …" she began, unsure what to say, she hadn't even thought about the consequences.

"There is only one thing to do," he said seriously, turning to look at her and taking her hand in his.

"What's that?" she asked him, part of her afraid of his answer.

**Gendry**

He woke up feeling more groggy than before. He opened his eyes, and the first thing he felt was the dull pain in his head, not to mention that he felt utterly famished. He looked around, and found himself in a dank ship cabin, the only source of light being a small circular window just behind the straw mattress he was lying on. There was a woman in the cabin, drawing water from a barrel in a brass tumbler. Memories came flooding in his mind. He got up from the straw mattress. "Where is Ser Barristan," he asked the woman. She turned around sharply, her lips partly open. Her homely dressing as well as plain features made it clear that she wasn't someone of high station. "I need to talk to someone here" he said. "I will send someone," she stuttered in a rough accent and ran out of the cabin, leaving him alone. He had known the Knight of the Kingsguard since childhood, and began to wonder just how he got here.

He looked around his cabin, which so resembled the pirates ships that Stannis caught from sailors of the Narrow Sea. The woman was back again."This way Khaleesi," she said to someone outside. He heard calculated footsteps approaching, and then his weary eyes were greeted by a vision of splendor and thought of his plight left his mind as he gazed upon the woman who had entered the cabin. He had heard of the allure of those who had the Blood of Old Valyria. Grand Maester Pycelle had told him of the features. Silver hair; amethyst eyes. But to behold such a beauty was a whole different thing. The woman who had entered his room seemed no short of a goddess, the Maiden herself given form , and just to gaze at her seemed to be a deep plunge into divinity.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but Gendry realized after a while that his stare had lingered too long on the woman, also his mouth was agape &amp; he was drooling like an idiot. She seemed close to his age. The woman had also noticed it, and Gendry blushed furiously. He lowered his gaze, too embarrassed to say anything.

"He woke up a short while ago Khaleesi," the olive skinned woman said, who was having a hard time suppressing her mirth. That was when Gendry came back to reality. This woman is Daenerys Targaryen and might be a bad news for him for all her beauty. She understands the common tongue. This will make things easy. Gendry looked straight at her. "Please let me go," he calmly said. "I don't think I can be of any use to you." The woman's sharp gaze softened. "I am not a slaver Gendry Baratheon. Nor are you being sold to anyone," she said.

How does she know my name, the question was immediately answered. Ser Barristan still remembers me. "What do you want from me?". The olive skinned woman bristled. "You are speaking to Daenerys Targaryen. the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Dothraki, the Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." Danaerys Targaryen, the Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He vaguely recalled how his father wanted the last Targaryens killed.

"Are those three dragons yours," he asked Daenerys. "Yes they are," she replied, smiling. "Shouldn't your brother be the Rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms," he asked. "He died more than a year ago," Daenerys said, "I am the last surviving Targaryen." Perhaps his father had succeeded then. "I am sorry to hear that," he offered sympathy for the sake of courtesy.

"Are you," she asked in a strained voice. "Yes I am," he said, though he hardly knew Viserys, "You might not know this, but my father was planning to kill you for a long time. Lord Stark had tried to stop him from sending assassins to kill you and your brother, but he was relentless. You and your brother are not responsible for the sins of your father and your eldest brother." Gendry had said it sincerely, but somehow it seemed to anger Daenerys. She calls herself the Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Of course she will be angry with what you said.

"My father and Rhaegar were trying to defend the realm from the usurper and his dogs," she spat furiously, "it was your father and the Lannisters who were the villains. They killed my father and my brother's wife and children." It was your father who practically started the war the moment he decided to burn Brandon and Rickard Stark, he thought. It was he who used used wildfire on anyone who offended him, and Lord Stark was the one who had stood up for justice for Elia Martell. But Gendry figured just in time that he was not in any position to argue 'the Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms'. He stayed silent, his eyes firmly on the ground.

"See that he is fed properly and bathed," she ordered her maid, "and have him brought to Ser Barristan." "Yes Khaleesi," she said. He was provided a bath of stone cold water, and then a bowl of fish stew. Gendry finished the stew in voluptuous gulps, for it was the best thing he had eaten in a while. He wore the fresh clean clothes given to him, and made his way to the top. He found the ship moving, and judging by the position of the sun, towards the North. What business does Daenerys have in Slave cities? He found Ser Barristan standing in the deck with a large man. He approached them with some hesitation. Soon Ser Barristan noticed his presence. He then pulled him into a large hug. "Didn't think I'd ever see you again, boy," He said. "I didn't think I'd see you again either" he replied "This is Ser Jorah Mormont. We are Queensguard to Queen Daenerys. How are you feeling?"

"I have seen better days," Gendry replied. "What are you doing here in Slaver's Bay?" "I want to ask you the same question," Barristan retorted, "why did I find you in a desolate island of all places?" He told him everything that happened: how the Gold Cloaks nearly killed him and his cousin, how he went to hiding in Dorne and was then discovered by Prince Doran and gave his word to bring back the Targaryen dynasty. Barristan and the other man listened in rapt attention, their expressions turning grimmer as he told his tale. "Don't worry boy," he assured Gendry who had obviously been through many traumatic experiences, "you are safe now. I and the queen will see to it." "If you don't mind my asking, Ser Barristan, why did you come to her?" he asked. "After your arrogant arse of a brother removed me from the Kingsguard, I realized I shouldn't have stuck around. I should have went off and found and protected the last Targaryens. But I am glad I got to know you boy" Barristan said, smiling.

He heard a shriek from above, and saw the white dragon flying above them. He descended, and perched himself on his shoulder. In return, he laughed and patted the white dragon. Jorah looked at this whole thing with bewilderment. Jon noticed the curiosity. "The dragons had come to me when I was at the island. This one had befriended me there." But they quickly dismissed it. They then set sail.

**That may have been the longest chapter I have ever written. So, Gendry has reached Daenerys and joined her cause. Edric and Sansa have caught themselves in quite a predicament. Personally, I kinda pictured Robbie Kay or Asa Butterfield as Edric. And Arya and Jon will be having some adventures with the Brotherhood without Banners. Stay tuned for the next chapter.**


	17. Chapter 17

**299 AC**

**Robb**

There it was. Such a weak looking place. He had already taken the Golden Tooth, Sarsfield and Ashemark. The Crag will be an easy place to take. "Are you sure about this, my King?" Olyvar said. "I'm certain, Olyvar" Robb said. "I'm just saying we shouldn't be too hasty in this. The Crag may no longer be the greatest castle it once was but we shouldn't underestimate the Westerlings" Olyvar said. For a squire two years older than him, the lad spoke sense. "They're not what they were before though. The Westerlings were strong, but now they are not, your grace. Old and poor, but a proud family nonetheless." Smalljon said. "MEN! AT THE READY!" Robb shouted.

**Jeyne**

They came in the black of the night.

Jeyne awoke to the song of steel clashing, men shouting, and horses neighing. Her bedchamber was dark as pitch save for the dying embers in the hearth across the room. She could see the faint outline of her younger sister, with whom she often shared her bed. The girl was fast asleep, her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Jeyne threw the bed covers back and eased out of bed slowly as to not wake her.

Mother and father warned this might happen, Jeyne thought as she peered through her small bedchamber window. She tried to make out banners, but it was useless. The moon played peek-a-boo with thick, dark clouds and the torches the men below carried were too far and few in between.

_Which king do these men serve? Stannis Baratheon with his false god and red witch_, she wondered. _The Young Wolf who rides upon the back of a great beast. Or maybe the sea had come this far inland, bringing savage iron islanders with it._

_It does not matter_, Jeyne decided as she turned away from the window and shook Elenya awake. _We are lost._

In under 30 minutes, he'd taken her castle.

It was not a proper castle: whole sections were largely in decay, bricks missing from the walls allowed the wind in, and the shed was and battered, broken mess; all of which the Westerlings could not afford to fix. Still, the Crag was the only home Jeyne knew. _And now this false king had barged in and declared it his._ The thought made her angry; she dug her nails into the palms of her hands as hard as she could.

His men had assembled her family and their few servants in the main hall. A large, muscular man with a ferocious brown beard lit a fire in the great hearth in an effort to combat the chill, yet still the wind seeped through. A monstrous grey wolf paced the room. Jeyne shuddered at the sight of it before turning to face her captor.

The rebel king wore plain blue armor, dented and scratched, spotted with rust in odd spots. He cleared his throat and stared at the unkempt household, eyes unflinching.

_How could such a cold man have such wonderful eyes?_ Jeyne wondered. She could get lost in them. They were a deep blue, hard and icy, yet she could see the water underneath. He was wounded too, she saw. A ragged bandage had been hastily wrapped about his left shoulder but fresh blood was seeping through, blotting the white fabric. The very sight of him stirred something in her. Jeyne had felt this thing before, when she had practiced kissing their only stable boy, but never with such intensity. Suddenly it became unbearable to look in his face. She stared at her feet instead as the rebel explained his terms. "You are free to move about the castle," he said, "but I cannot permit you to leave the grounds and my men will see to the birds. You all may...you can return to your chambers." He said, shortly before he fainted from his wound.

"The King!" one of the men surrounding us shouted out and many of them went forwards to try and aid the wounded man. I couldn't help but look at the King in the North then as his eyes drifted in and out of focus as one of his men slapped his hands against his face while another pressed a hand to the wound in his stomach, his hands dripping red within a minute. "Do you have a Maester here?!" one of the men demanded and I flinched at his harsh accent. I had never met a Northman before. "Dead," my brother Raynald said, "took an arrow to the head" "An apprentice?!" the man demanded, looking half furious and half desperate. "Just him," Raynald said, shaking his head. "Is there anyone with any skill?!" he said, his tone almost pleading now and I felt myself step forwards despite myself.

"Jeyne!" my mother hissed furiously behind me but the man had already seen my movement. "You girl! You can help?!" he asked me, his eyes not leaving mine."I know a little," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. "If he dies I will slit your pretty throat you hear me?" he said threateningly and I shuddered. "Stop it," the King in the North rasped out, "you do not threaten a Lady" "Where can we take him?" his man asked me then, his tone softer.

"Follow me," I managed to say, making my feet move towards the door so I could lead them to an empty bed chamber. They lay him gently down when I stepped aside to let them pass, pulling away his damaged armour and mail before starting on his clothing.

I averted my eyes as they stripped him bare, not looking up until one of them came to stand in front of me. "He's all yours, be sure to do a good job," he said quietly but meaningfully and I nodded quickly, keeping my eyes away from him as he and the rest of the men filed from the room. I took a few deep breaths before I walked shakily towards the unconscious King, seeing that one of the men must have brought supplies as an array of bandages and cloths were laid next to him. I took another breath before dipping one of the cloths in water and dabbing carefully and the slash that ran from one of his ribs down the left side of his stomach. The wound did not seem too deep as I cleaned it and I silently thanked the Gods, I had never learned stitching from the Maester and I was glad I wouldn't have to try it now. I dried it once I had cleaned it, my breathing coming easier as I realised that the wound was bleeding a lot less now than it had been before. I took courage from that and hesitantly began unraveling one of the bandages, knowing it would be difficult for me to wrap it around his body seeing as he was not awake to lift himself.

"Will he live?" Raynald asked me as he moved to the other side of the bed and prepared to roll the King onto his uninjured side as I tossed the other end of the bandage to him. "I should think so," I said, biting my lip again, "why do you ask?" "I need to know if I will have to bend the knee," he explained. "Will you?" I asked, beginning to wrap the bandage around the Northman's body. "I would think so, although mother is against it," he said, moving the King so I could pull the bandage around him. I nodded then and Raynald moved him again so I could wrap the bandage around a second and then a third time before I tied it securely, my brother laying the injured man carefully back down against the pillows

Two hours later and still sleep would not come. The sun was rising slowly and so Jeyne rose with it. She filled a basin with water from a jug near the door, and carefully washed and dressed herself. She chose a delicate yellow gown with a fitted bodice. It was nicer than what Jeyne would wear on a normal day, but casual enough that it would not raise suspicion. She was not very skilled with hair, so she braided hers in a simple long braid. By the time Jeyne finished Eleyna had awoken and was nearly dressed.

"Coming down for breakfast," Eleyna asked her.

"No..no, I have something I need to take care of," Jeyne responded nervously, smoothing out the folds in her skirt.

Eleyna shrugged and left the room. Jeyne waited until she no longer heard her sister's footsteps before slipping into the hall. She hurried past her parent's bedchamber and into a small room in a nook near the staircase. It was there that she found what she needed.

After she hunted down what she was looking for,, Jeyne darted out of the room and climbed the winding staircase to wear he rested. Each step seemed a little harder than the one before, but Jeyne pressed on. _There is honor in kindness_, she told herself. _Besides we have no maester. It would be dishonorable to let him suffer._

No one ever went to the fourth floor of the Crag. What was probably once a splendid area that some maester frequented was now dilapidated. A wooden beam hung splintered from the rafters and chinks of bricks were missing from the wall letting the wind howl through. _This is no fit place for a lord, let alone a king_, Jeyne thought as she ducked under low hanging beams and jumped over areas where the floorboards had been ripped out. When she reached the bedchamber, she hesitated, took a deep breath, and pushed open the heavy oaken door.

The chamber was just as bad the hall: glass was missing from most of the windows and there was a hole in the ceiling. Water from last night's rains pooled on the floor beneath it and the earthy smell of mildew perfumed the air. A hole in the door that adjoined the chamber to the rookery allowed the few ravens the Westerlings owned to fly freely between the two areas, leaving droppings behind them. And on a small, straw cot in a corner of the room lay the King in the North. Jeyne thought he seemed smaller without the mail and steel encasing him. His back faced her, but as she shut the door behind her, he turned over and sat up.

He opened his eyes and blinked up at me in a slightly confused manner. "Don't move your Grace," I said quietly, my hand going to his shoulder as he attempted to rise.

"Who are you?" he asked me, his accent not as rough as the one his man had.

"Jeyne your Grace, Jeyne Westerling," I introduced myself. "I hope I didn't wake you..Your Grace," she said nervously.

"No, I did not get much rest with this," he nodded toward his wounded shoulder. The bandage was no longer white, but brown, caked with dried blood.

"Well, if it pleases, you, Your Grace, I can help." Jeyne held up the bucket she had brought with her. In it were clean rags, a knife, a pot, and a flagon of wine.

He nodded. And so Jeyne set the pail down and prodded the dying fire in the hearth with a poker until it blazed strong again. She then filled the pot with wine and put it on the fire and sat down on the cot. The rebel king held out his left arm and Jeyne set to work.

She removed the soiled bandages and wiped the dried blood from his shoulder. When the wine was hot enough Jeyne poured it over the hole the arrow that pierced his skin had left. The rebel winced and ground his teeth, but did not cry out.

"This is your castle I've captured then my Lady?" he said with a small smile. "Yes," I nodded, unsure of what else to say. "Thank you for tending to me," he said seriously then, looking me directly in the eye.

"I couldn't just let you die," I told him and he frowned slightly. "I'm the enemy, that's exactly what you should have done," he said. "Are you sorry I helped you?" I asked incredulously, stunned at his rebuke.

"Not sorry," he said soothingly, "just surprised" "Why have you taken the Crag? It is not important," I questioned him after a moment of silence.

"It is a foothold in the Westerlands," he told me. "We don't have many men," I said. "You have even less now," he replied, a wry smile on his lips.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked him, he looked so young and vulnerable, not someone who should be fighting a war, much less doing so as King.

"I want my sister's home, I want my father's body home so he can rest in the crypts," he said softly

"You can't stay here," Jeyne whispered while wrapping his shoulder with fresh rags.

"Well, My Lady, when you take a castle -" the Young Wolf began.

"No, I mean in this room." She motioned toward the broken windows. "You can use my bedchamber. I'll stay with my sister until you are well."

He gave her a curt nod and fell silent.

Not another word passed between them as Jeyne finished wrapping his shoulder. When she was done, she gathered the supplies she had brought with her and moved towards the door. As Jeyne was leaving she heard a faint "thank you, My Lady" before shutting the door behind her.

The next day broke bleak and overcast. Pale clouds adorned the sky like wispy pillows while the wind pulled at the Crag's doors and shutters. Normally a day such as this would leave Jeyne feeling downcast, _but not today_. Even her mother's probing questions and her father's grumbling about honor did not bother her. After breaking her fast in the small dining hall with her family, Jeyne went back to Eleyna's bedchamber where she had spent the night. She called out a greeting to ensure that it was empty before dropping to her knees and sliding her hand under the bed, grasping for the pail. When she found it, she left the room and walked over to her own chamber.

Jeyne knocked softly on the door and waited five heartbeats for an answer. When none came, she opened it.

The Young Wolf was seated on her bed, a piece of parchment and pen in hand, a pot of ink sat beside him. An intense look of concentration played on his hard features.

Jeyne cleared her throat, "I can come back if you wish."

He looked up and set the parchment aside. "No, come. I was just looking this over."

"May I ask what is?" She implored as she sat on the bed and began searching through the contents of her pail.

"A tally of our treasury." The king held out his left shoulder. " I know houses and war. Yet, I am absolutely horrible at sums."

"And here I thought kings were supposed to be good at everything." Jeyne gasped and covered her mouth. For half a heartbeat, she was mortified. _I have spoken out of turn_. She could feel her cheeks burning.

But the Young Wolf only smiled and the face of a king melted, and there sat a boy.

* * *

Everyday Jeyne visited the rebel king her heart softened a little more for him. And every night, as she laid in bed eager for dawn to break, that voice of dissension would whisper that it was folly and that he was false. But as the days turned into weeks, it grew weaker and whenever it was a bit too strong, she hushed it with her own grumblings about honor.

The King in the North was getting stronger by the day and Jeyne knew that soon he would go back to war. _I must savor these last few days_, she thought as she sat redressing his bandages. The king himself was in a good mood: his arm didn't hurt him as much and so he sat joking and making light-hearted conversation. The King in the North didn't feel like an enemy now that I had met him though, he just seemed like a young man who was desperate to have his family back together, and I could not see what was wrong with that.

I made my way down to the kitchens to find the Northman something to eat, thankfully I didn't meet my mother on the way, I knew she would disapprove. She had never liked me spending time with the Maester and I knew that she would like it even less now, knowing I was using the skills I had learnt from him to tend our enemy. I avoided my mother again, Rollam and Eleyna warning me that she was in a foul mood. I knew it would partly be because of me and so I made sure to seat myself as far from her as possible at dinner and excused myself as soon as possible before she could summon me before her. He was awake when I let myself in, someone must have been before me because he was propped up against a mountain of pillows whereas I had left him lying flat. "My Lady," he greeted me. "I have brought you something to eat your Grace," I said, crossing to lay the tray down next to him. "Thank you my Lady," he smiled.

"I will leave you in peace," I said, making my way back to the door. "My Lady would you stay?" he asked from behind me."Do you need something? Are you in pain?" I questioned, moving back towards him.

"No," he said softly, "I would just be glad of your company," he blushed slightly. "Very well," I said, smiling slightly, "you are lucky I have no other duties to attend to"

"No husband waiting for you?" he asked me, his eyes boring into mine. "No," I replied, "my father has yet to find a match for me" "I'm surprised," he smiled, "a woman of your beauty ought not to be alone"

"Well I am surprised you are a King without a Queen," I countered, trying not to blush at his words. "I will have a Queen soon enough," he said.

"Oh," I said softly, wondering why my stomach twisted so uncomfortably at the thought. "Yes," he said, his eyes finding mine again, "it was not my decision"

"Tell me about her," I urged quietly. "I know nothing of her, save she is a Frey girl," he said sadly. "I am sure she is lovely," I smiled. "Yes," he said, although he did not look entirely convinced.

I stayed with him for most of the afternoon, we didn't speak of anything of much importance, I told him about my family and he told me of his. My hand found his when he spoke of his father and he had held it back tightly while he got his emotions under control. He kept hold of my hand then until I finally left and I felt content with the rough warmth enclosing mine, finding myself missing the pressure now I was away from him.

I went up to see the King in the North before I retired to bed, but when I pushed open the door of his room quietly I found that he was asleep. I approached him anyway and just gazed down at his sleeping form for a while, seeing the steady rise and fall of his broad chest as he slept peacefully. He looked content in his sleep and I eventually tore my eyes from him and moved towards the door. "Jeyne," I heard him mumble as my hand came to the latch. I turned, thinking he had woken, only to see that he was still sleeping sounding. "Jeyne," he murmured again in his sleep, making my stomach jolt again, this time not unpleasantly. "Sweet Jeyne …" he almost sighed and my heart beat furiously as I finally managed to get the door open and slip through it, my heart still hammering and my mind spinning as I made my own way to bed.

_His hands felt rough but his touch was gentle as they travelled up the length of my bare thighs. I shuddered then in anticipation and opened my eyes to see him looming above me. His nakedness made me want to blush but I couldn't move my eyes away from him as he smiled down on me, letting his weight press against mine, touching our bare skin together. He let his hands wander my skin and the warmth in the pit of my stomach began to seep its way between my legs and I heard a low moan leave my lips as his own trailed down my neck. He shifted himself slightly then and I felt his length pressed between my legs and his blue eyes found mine, silently asking my permission. I held his gaze for a moment before I nodded, feeling him move slowly at my consent. _

My eyes flew open then and I sat bolt up-right in bed, my chest heaving as I tried to calm myself from my dream. I had no idea where that had come from, why I was having such sinful thoughts about the man I was supposed to be taking care of. I could feel the tingling between my thighs as I lay back down against the pillows, trying to get my breathing under control. Tentatively I moved my own hand between my legs but it didn't feel right, my fingers were too soft and small, they weren't what I wanted touching me like that. I threw the covers off me then and crossed to the dresser to find something to wear, I needed to stop thinking the thoughts I was. He was not mine to think about, he was betrothed, and even if he wasn't he was still the enemy, it would not do to dwell on him, especially as he would leave as soon as his wound healed

* * *

"How is the King in the North?" Raynald asked me as my breakfast arrived. "Healing well," I told him evenly. "I would bend the knee when he is well enough to leave his chambers," he said seriously.

"Why?" I asked, turning my head to him and seeing the look of disgust cross my mother's face. "I think his cause is just, had the Crag been located in the North or the Riverlands I would have already joined him," my brother told me and I nodded.

"I know you always do what is right, or what you think is right," I said. "You have spent time with the Young Wolf, what is his character?" he asked me then.

"He is kind," I said, thinking that too dull a word, "very courteous and grateful," I added. "No less than I would expect from Eddard Stark's son," my brother smiled.

I avoided going up to the King's room for most of the day, I still felt confused and embarrassed about my dream and I sent servants up with his meals at breakfast and lunch. When dinner came no one was free to take it and so I reluctantly went, pausing and taking a deep breath before I let myself into his room. He smiled at me when I entered and my stomach flipped, my heart seeming to accelerate wildly. How was he doing this to me?

"I thought you had abandoned me," he said, his tone amused as I set his tray down next to him.

"I've had other things to attend to," I lied, not quite able to meet those blue eyes.

"I missed you," he said softly, his hand taking mine gently and I met his gaze then.

"I am here now," I almost whispered and he held my gaze intently for a while before releasing my hand and turning his attention to his dinner.

"I should eat this before it gets cold," he said almost apologetically.

"Yes," I agreed, "you need to regain your strength your Grace"/pp"Would you call me Robb my Lady?" he asked me shyly.

"If you would call me Jeyne," I replied with a small smile.

"Jeyne," he smiled back and my stomach tightened at the way it sounded on his lips. "I should go and have my own meal," I said after a while.

"Of course, don't let me keep you," he said, although I thought I saw disappointment in his eyes./pp"I will check on you before bed," I assured him and he smiled brightly.

"Would you mind bringing me something to read?" he asked.

"Of course not," I returned his smile.

"I need something to occupy me when you're not here," he said softly and my heart pounded.

* * *

I was in my night clothes when I went back to Robb's room, I knew it was improper but I would only be staying for a moment and I hadn't wanted to re-lace myself into my gown after my bath just to deliver a few books. Again I paused before I let myself in, quietly closing the door behind me. "Robb?" I called softly into the semi darkness as I heard what sounded like muffled sobs coming from where he lay. I saw him lift his head to look at me then and even from a distance I could see tears that had tracked down his handsome face. I rushed to his side at once and he grabbed me tightly around the waist, pulling me down so I was sat on the bed as he broke down, his head against my chest as he cried.

"It's alright," I soothed, holding him back, one of my hands stroking through his soft curls.

"No," he choked out, his arms coming even more tightly around me as I rocked him gently.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"Raven came. They're dead. They're dead," he told me, his voice thick.

"Who?" I asked him, part of me not wanting to know. "My brothers. Bran and Rickon," he said in a slightly strangled voice before a fresh wave of tears came over him. "Rickon. H-He was j-just a boy. A-A l-little boy! H-He was ju-just learning how to use a sw-sword!" Robb strangled out.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, holding him closer, "I don't know nor can I imagine that kind of pain. I couldn't bear the thought of losing, Elenya, Rollam or Raynald. Hush. I'm here Robb … I'm here." Eventually he quietened in my arms, I could feel moisture on my chest where his tears had soaked through my nightgown and it drew my attention to our close proximity. It had seemed so natural to comfort him like this, to hold him close to me, but now I was realising just how improper it was. He lifted his eyes to mine then and they shone brightly as they looked at me and I could tell that he too had noticed how close we were. My heart hammered as he gazed at me, slowly shifting himself up so that his eyes were level with mine, his hands not moving from around my waist. I could almost feel the tension rolling between us as he held my eyes, my own not able to look away, as though they were anchored by his blue.

The king squeezed Jeyne's hand, his face was still and though his eyes were upon the tall man, he did not seem to see him. The man, unsure of what to do, rushed out of the room. Jeyne wondered if she should do the same. She did not know how to comfort him. But before she could decide, the king kissed her. His mouth tasted of salt and grief and Jeyne could feel his tears on her cheeks. That thing inside of her moved strongly and she knew she'd taken his heart.

After what felt like a lifetime he moved his face slowly closer to mine and I felt my heartbeat quicken as he came ever closer. When he was close enough for me to feel his ragged breath on my lips I closed my eyes and felt his lips press against mine in a second. It was shy and tentative the way he would press one kiss to me before hesitating and then pressing another. His lips made my own tingle and when he pulled away again I opened my eyes to find him looking at me again. My stomach tightened and I let myself inch towards him a fraction. He closed the gap in an instant, one of his hands coming up to the back of my neck as his lips crushed against mine, kissing me hard, letting his tongue enter my mouth and dance with my own. I felt the warmth from my dream spread through me then and my stomach twisted as I felt almost afraid, pulling away from the kiss.

She then pulled back into it, feeling just how warm and tender they felt. How long they kissed, Jeyne could not say. The concept of time did not exist as they kissed and nipped at each other any and every where.

"I want you Jeyne," he whispered, making me shudder involuntarily as I heard the lust in his voice. "I want you too," I confessed, unable to ignore my panging heart or the warmth between my thighs.

"You would let me?" he asked, his tone that of slight surprise. "Yes," I breathed, a blush rising in my cheeks as his hand rested on my thigh, "I would"

"Let me see you," he said hungrily, his eyes going to the ties of my nightgown, "I want to see all of you," he continued and I almost melted. I hesitantly pulled away from him then so I could stand by the side of the bed, my heart pounding uncomfortably fast as I moved my hands to undo the ties.

They shook slightly as they came away and I met Robb's intense gaze for a moment before I let go of them, my nightgown falling fluidly to the floor and leaving me completely bare. My stomach twisted again as I let my eyes drop from Robb, unable to quite believe I was stood naked before him. "Jeyne," he breathed and I managed to lift my head, "you are beautiful … come here," he continued, beckoning me to the bed.

She found that she became most excited when the Young Wolf traced his fingers down the back of her bodice while gently biting her neck. And when he kissed the top of her breasts, she giggled. Soon Jeyne's small clothes were wet with her own juices and she felt a warm pressure in her loins that she knew would not be satiated by kissing.

Robb sucked in his breath and looked over Jeyne's body as though he'd never seen the likes of her before. She knew he wanted her and that made her even more excited. He slid his hands between her thighs and pushed a finger inside of her and moved it about. The pressure in Jeyne's loins grew and she moaned and grabbed a thicket of his auburn hair. She saw that the king's member stood half-alert and so she wrapped her hand about it and began to move up and down his shaft. She figured that the King in the North liked that because he pulled his finger out of her and sat with his eyes closed, mouth agape as she continued to work her hand about him.

After a minute or so, between moans, he panted, "I think you're supposed to lie back now, My Lady"

"Oh...of course." Jeyne laid on her back and the king climbed on top of her. There was a strange look in his eyes. Jeyne thought it looked a little like fear. _He has never done this before either_, she realized. She could also tell that his armed pained him. A wild idea came to her, but Jeyne was certain it would work. She slid from under the king and helped him lie on his back. She then climbed on top of him and planted a kiss on his mouth, then his neck, and then his chest working her way down slowly until she reached his throbbing limb. She looked up at the king; his eyes were wide with anticipation. Jeyne lightly brushed her lips over his manhood. "I think not," she said, smiling coyly as she sat up. She grabbed his member and winced as she slid him inside of her. The initial pain was searing; Jeyne had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

My legs shook as I knelt down, his hands coming hesitantly to my hips as I climbed astride him uncertainly, lowering myself into his lap slowly, my stomach clenching when I felt his hardness through the thin sheet. He pressed me closer to his body then, his hands slowly running up and down my spine, making my breathing come more sharply as I felt his rough hands against my bare skin. I tentatively let my own hands run up the muscles of his arms before smoothing them over his shoulders, his eyes finding mine again and smiling at me shyly. My stomach jolted again as I realised that he had not done this before either, it was the first time for both of us and the thought made my heart soar. Nervously I took one of his hands and guided it down my chest and stomach, his eyes wide with wonder as I finally let it rest between my legs. His eyes didn't leave mine as he tentatively moved his fingers against me, making my stomach tighten and a small gasp of pleasure leave my lips. Robb seemed to take heart from my reaction and became more sure in his movements, gliding his fingers firmly against me, my breathing becoming more and more laboured as he did so, my stomach tightening almost unbearably. I almost whimpered with longing when he moved his hand away, my heart pounding as I watched him shift the sheet back from beneath me so I could finally see him uncovered. I shuddered slightly at the sight, wondering how that was ever supposed to go inside me as his hands came to my hips and lifted me slightly, his intense blue eyes on me again as I felt his hardness press between my legs. I gasped as he slowly slid me onto his length, biting down on my lower lip as I felt him tear through my maidenhead. His eyes were clouded with worry as he looked at me and I leaned forward to kiss him as I tried to get used to the feeling of him filling me completely.

The pain between my legs dulled the longer I kissed him, his arms tight around me as it seeped away almost completely. I slowly rocked my hips then and he almost growled into my mouth, his hands coming to my hips to move me again. This time a small cry left my own lips and I felt him smile against them before his own trailed across my jaw and down towards my neck, all the while his hands continued to move me slowly against him. My breathing came in sharp gasps the more he moved me against him, his hot kisses trailing along my neck and shoulders, his fingers digging into the flesh of my hips. I felt myself needing more as my stomach tied itself in tight knots, my breaths coming as soft cries now as I met Robb's movements, speeding the pace of his thrusts making him groan against the tender flesh of my breasts. It wasn't long before I came undone, the knots in my stomach all seeming to undo at once, a delicious tingling spreading through my whole body as a low moan left my lips. Robb growled in my ear at my undoing and continued rocking me hard against him for a few more moments before I felt him spill inside me, his warmth spreading right through me. He made no move to slide out of me, merely holding me tightly, his head resting on my shoulder as he breathed hard against my neck. I let my own head drop to his shoulder then as I got my own breathing under control, letting my fingers trace light patterns against the hard muscles of his back. I felt him kiss behind my ear then and I smiled, letting my own lips press a kiss to his shoulder in response.

* * *

**Robb**

He awoke to her. He suddenly realized what he had done. She looked so peaceful, lying next to him. But all he took notice to was the sheets. The now bloodied sheets that were stained with Jeyne's moonblood. She then began to stir awake.

Robb then nuzzled her gently. "Jeyne. Jeyne, I'm sorry." He whispered. "It's fine" she said huskily. "I've shamed you. I've dishonored you" he said somewhat harshly. "I could have refused you. Nor do I feel dishonored." Jeyne said.

His hands found the sides of her face and drew her eyes up to meet his. He looked troubled. "Do not…if I have wronged you…"

"I don't feel wronged either," Jeyne said. Robb closed his eyes and shook his head a little bit. His thumbs caressed her cheeks.

Her stomach began to churn with emotion. "You do not need to apologize to me, your grace. I was happy to - "

"Don't do that," he cut in, catching her chin in his hand and forcing her to look him in the eye. "What happened between us, it did not happen because I am the king and you were simply here. You understand that?"

Jeyne nodded.

"I am sorry I shamed you by taking your maidenhead when we are not wed," Robb clarified. "House Westerling has been kind to me, and I should not have dishonored them. I wish to make amends for it."

Tears threatened to overwhelm Jeyne as she choked out, "I can fetch my brother to discuss payment - "

Robb's eyes widened in shock at her words, shaking his head vigorously. "No, I wish to marry you, Jeyne. Today."

For a moment, Jeyne was certain she misheard. After a moment, all she could manage was, "Marry me?"

A hint of a smile played at Robb's lips. "If you'll have me, that is. Will you have me, Jeyne?"

"Always, Robb. My king."

**I hope you enjoyed that chapter. On a side note, I kinda imagined Lily James, Jenna Coleman or Sarah Bolger playing Jeyne Westerling if they did cast her, and Ed Spleers as Raynald Westerling.**


	18. Chapter 18

**299 AC**

**Arya**

She hated it. She hated how they simply allowed a murderer like the Hound simply go free. The he thoughts ran back to her uncle. How was it that he just miraculously came back to life. "That was strange. I thought when you die, ya stay dead" Colen said, as the firewood he gathered continued to drop from his hands. "Not when it comes to the Lord of Light apparently. That's the first time I'd actually saw it done" Ned said. "You've seen it happen?" Jon asked. "I've heard about the Lord of Light returning his will over and over again. That's how Thoros explained it. But I never actually seen it happen, not with my own eyes" Ned explained. "It was most strange. But why bring him back? Why would this Lord of Light bring back anybody from the dead?" Jon asked.

"Because, the Lord of Light has clearly sent his will into Beric and Thaddeus. Dy'know that he decided to call himself the 'Burnt Trout' because he believes in the Lord of Light now?" Thoros said, sipping from his wineskin. The Burnt Trout. Ridiculous, it makes him sound like a delicious meal. She preferred that he remain the Terror of the Trident. "Why change it? Why stop believing in the seven?" Colen asked. "Because they know who the real God is, and that all must suffer" Thoros said. Suddenly, Beric and Thaddeus came upon them, sitting by the fire. "Do we frighten you now?" Thaddeus asked. "No" "Not really" "A bit" "I want your eye-patch" they replied. "You're angry with me and Beric. We don't blame ya" her uncle said. "But letting him go was the right thing to do, and I have more reason than anybody to see him hanged" Beric said. "He killed you" she said. "Aye. He did. And the Lord of Light saw to restore my light once again. He had done so with Beric as well" He said. Restore his light?

"How many times has this Lord of Light brought back Lord Beric and my uncle?" she asked Thoros. "Beric was brought back three times at the least. First time, the Mountain had struck him through with a lance. The second time his head was smashed in by mace. The third time, the Mountain stuck a dagger through his eye." Thoros said. "And my uncle?" she asked. "No one knows of anyone brave and true than your uncle. I didn't think that the Lord of Light would bring him back but I said the prayers anyway. He first died when Amory Lorch hung him. The second time he took an axe to the belly. The third time was a sword though it. The last time an archer got him. Not Anguy though. And now this makes five" Thoros said. "How can that be? How can you just bring him back?" Jon asked. "I don't bring them back from the dead, the Lord of Light does. I'm just a lucky drunk who says the words." Thoros said.

"It's not as great as it sounds, boy. I become and feel less of myself when the Lord of Light sees fit to restore me. Pieces o' me chipped away. I can scarcely remember anybody or anything. I held a castle by a river once, and there was a woman I was married and children who would run about to my arms, but I can't remember their faces. Who knighted me, old friends? What were my favorite foods? It all fades. Sometimes I think I was born on the bloody grass in that grove of ash, with the taste of fire in my mouth and a hole in my chest" Thaddeus said. "You were knighted by your fierce and loving uncle, Brynden the Blackfish from what I've gathered. You married Lady Rhea Florent and had three children by her: two daughters and two boy. I would remember cuz you saw fit to invite me and I took part in the bedding ceremony" Beric japed. "Rhea. I can barely remember her face but I remember why fell in love with her." he said softly as he began to recall the reason. "Her face? Tits?" Thoros japed. Gross.

"No. Her ears. The Florents are famous for them, but I found them to be the most adorable things I'd ever seen. Marissa, Denyse and Tommard have the same ears if I recall correctly, along with the bright red Tully hair. Rhea would say they looked like the foxes of her house. Caspor though, he looked more like a Tully then any of them. I remember how much he cried after I ..." he trailed off.

"C-Could you bring back a man without a head?" she asked. Jon then looked at her. He knew just what she was asking. "Not six times. Just once" "I don't believe it works that way child" Thoros said. "He was a good man. Ned Stark. Admired and respected him. He's at rest now, somewhere" Beric said. "I wouldn't wish my life upon him" Thaddeus said. "I would. Your alive" she said. She then felt Jon's arm touch her shoulder and slowly come to hug her. "I knew your father. I met him when he had to wed my sister, your mother. I still remember that he didn't want the bedding ceremony to happen, and yet it did. When every man tried to grab at Cat. I remembered helping him punch every man who would grab at her. And then I had the honor of fighting by his side." he said.

"When Catelyn told me how he brought back a bastard into their home, I wanted to go and punch him for doing that. But I didn't. I may not have known him all my life but I knew him enough. He must have deeply cared about your mother, or was so deeply in love with the child that he couldn't simply abandon him." he said directly to Jon. "When I came close to dying by some Gaunt or Chelsted soldier, he came right up and hacked him in half. I see that same honor in you, Jon. And greatness" he said. "I don't want greatness. I want to serve, to save the people. Like a real knight should"

**Robard**

He heard the horses coming back into the encampment as he oversaw the training of the soldiers. He then saw Loras running toward him and fast. "YOU!" he shouted. He was galloping hard and fast, a sword raised up in his hand. Elston Chelsted and Wendel Wensington had already raised up his swords to defend him. But he told them no and quickly unsheathed Defiance at the ready. Loras swung his sword as hard as he could but a simple swing caused it to break in two like a twig. Loras then leapt off from the horse and tried to pommel him to the ground but he kept his calm. He grabbed both his fists and then kneed him.

This seemed to bring the Knight of Flowers to heel. He moaned from the pain but then he groaned out. "You did this! You killed Renly! You and your bastard father!" Gods, perhaps he isn't as stupid as he thought. "I didn't do a thing" he said. "LIES!" he cried out. "It isn't my fault that you failed to protect your king" he said, blunt as a tourney blade. He then came charging at him but he easily pushed him down. "What's going on here?" Margaery said as she approached him, "He killed him. He killed Renly!" Loras screamed out.

"Did I ride out to battle with you? Did I slay him with my own sword? I am not sorry for the death of King Renly. I am sorry for the death of my uncle. Let's be honest, what did King Renly do as he proclaimed himself to be king? He ordered a tourney. Is that the kind of king he wanted to be? He'd be no better than my uncle King Robert." he said. He then turned and faced what remained of Renly's surviving men. "You made a choice. You chose to follow someone who would dress the part rather than play it. You chose a man who deemed himself king because he knew how to make people smile. A bold little boy of one-and-twenty with wild black hair and laughing eyes, playing games, prancing about and saying "Look at me, I'm a king," Do you want to play games or do you want to fight?!" he cried out into the now forming crowd of soldiers. They then cried out "YES". "Do you want to play in a war or fight in one?!" he roared. They then roared back at him. "I know you loved Renly. Despite their differences, my father did as well. I know many of you would want to see him avenged. King Stannis will let you have that vengeance. We will take King's Landing. But don't fight for honor. Don't fight for gold or glory because you won't get it. If we fight, it will be for the right cause. To remove that abomination that calls himself king!" he roared.

"Will you fight with your rightful king?" he said. The crowd of soldiers then gave their response. They roared out in fierceness. He then turned to Loras. "Do you want to avenge him?" he said. "You know I do" Loras growled out. "He did do one thing right. One thing. He made you Lord Commander of his Kingsguard, or Rainbow Guard as you like. I'd like to name you Lord Commander of King Stannis' Kingsguard." Robard said. "I'd be honored." Loras gritted.

As everyone immediately went off to train, he came into Margaery's tent. "Has your father agreed to it?" he asked. "Yes. It took quite a long time at convincing him. I thought I was going to have to say that I was repulsed by you" she said. "Are you now?" he teased, wrapping his arms around her. "No. Never" she said, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "When will we wed?" he asked. "My father wants us to marry at the Sept of Baelor" she said. "Fuck that. I have enough gold dragons to give to a septon. We'll all be getting what we want." he said, now pulling her into a passionate kiss

**Sansa**

She married Edric in what was left of the burnt sept of Dragonstone. It was not what she pictured. Sansa never thought she would do something so wanton; how she gave herself to him and willingly gave him her maiden's gift. She felt dirty and used. She felt that it would have been easier for Edric to have left her with a bastard in her belly.

She saw that Daven and Tyrek gave something of a disappointing look. As she went into her chambers, she saw Edric was already there. "Sorry. I'll just leave" Edric said. "Edric, wait. Don't leave. W-We're married now. I want you to stay" Sansa said uneasily. "No, I'm sorry." he said, shocking her. "You and I should share chambers once we truly get to know one another. So, I'll make my leave to mine own" Edric said. None of this was ideal. But she saw what he was. He may have been a Storm before but he was a Florent now. But that didn't seem to matter either way. He was definitely charming and brave, and immensely courteous.

"Then let's get to know one another. Tell me something about you" she said. And so they talked. He told her about the life he had at Storm's End. How it's castellan Ser Cortnay Penrose loved him like a son. And she told him about her life in Winterfell. How Robb and Jon would train for days on end. How Arya sheep shifted her bed when she angered her, which was always. How Bran would always climb everything and made their mother worry. How she would read to Rickon about the wildlings and the Kings of Winter until they were like music in his ears.

She then felt comfortable with him. More comfortable than she had ever been back in the Red Keep. Sansa found herself nuzzling his neck. "I never really gave a thought as to being a father." he said. "Really? Not once?" she said, teasing. "I always thought of meeting a nice girl and settling down in a nice keep. I knew that as much as I loved Storm's End, it would never be mine" he said. Suddenly, she began to feel sorry for Jon. Jon was her brother and Winterfell was always kind to him but he knew that the place could never be his. He could never call it his home. She then felt saddened that she had not been home. She began to miss it terribly now. Gage the cook, Mikken the smith, her friend Jeyne Poole.

"Sansa? Are you alright? You're shaking" Edric said, placing a fur over her. "No, I'm fine. I just began to miss my home. I miss it terribly." she said. "We could visit Highgarden. After seeing Brightwater Keep, I've only been there twice with Ser Cortnay when he would discuss trade or some other things. It's rather lovely" he said. "Would we truly be able to go?" she asked, hope filling up her voice. "On my honor, I will take you anywhere you'd want to go. Brightwater Keep. Oldtown. Highgarden. Perhaps even the Eyrie and Sunspear." Edric said. She could easily hear it in his voice. He would do anything for her. "Truly?" "Truly" he said. She then put his arms around his side, trying not to address his wound and covered themselves with the furs. "I feel so safe with you"

**Daenerys**

She should hate him. He has the blood of the Usurper coursing though his veins. The blood of the Lannisters who killed her brother's children. But she cannot feel it completely. His eyes a deep blue as the sea and hair as dark as a raven's wing. She wanted to hate him for what his own father had done and she hated the fact that she found him to be a rather handsome young man. He was on the port of the ship and she saw the most shocking thing ever. Viserion simply perched on his shoulder, completely calm. He quickly noticed her reaction. "We've been good friends as of late." he said. Viserion then gave a loud shriek and went off to fish with his brothers. "It's strange. Dragons can only be tamed by those of dragon's blood" she said.

He then had a look of guilt on his face. "Would you walk with me?" she said. He simply nodded. "Would you mind answering some of my questions?" Dany asked. "Of course, my queen" he said. My queen. She loved the way it came out of his voice. "My brother Viserys told me that the Seven Kingdoms eagerly awaited our return. Is it true?" she asked. "Truthfully?" he said, and she nodded. "Not many houses await your return, my queen. I know that House Darry still supports you. They tried to hide it but I could see it in their eyes" Gendry said. "What about House Greyjoy or House Tyrell?" she asked. "The Tyrells are much like my mother's house. They vie for power as much as anyone. They try to hide it but they don't hide it all that well. House Greyjoy serves only itself and their Drowned God" Gendry said.

This had disappointed her. The Qartheans were right. She did have no allies whatsoever, but she had a birthright and a home to return to. "May I ask you something, my queen?" he asked. "You are already asking me something" she said. He then laughed. Already, the laugh had begun to echo marvelously in her ears. "Why is it that your Dothraki call Ser Jorah "Jorah the Andal"?" he asked. "He is of my home of Westeros" she said rather plainly and confusedly.

"Ser Jorah is of House Mormont. He wouldn't be an Andal so to speak" he said. He confused her. Why would Ser Jorah not be an Andal? "What do you mean?" she asked. "Ser Jorah is of House Mormont. The Mormonts are a Northern family. The Northerners aren't Andals, they don't worship the Seven" he said. "The Seven?" she asked, feeling stupid right now. "You don't follow a religion of some sort, my queen?" he asked. No, she didn't. She spent most of her life running and hiding. She never learnt anything about religion or the houses that ruled Westeros. All she learned from Viserys was not to wake the dragon.

She and he then sat down. "If you do plan on retaking Westeros, you're going to have to learn and know about the people" Gendry said. "And you would teach me?" she asked. "Well, I've never really taught anyone this sort of thing, but I can teach you what I know." he said. "What would you like to know first?" he asked. This was strange, she never learned anything about Westeros other that it was once her home. How Viserys ranted on days end that he would be king. But now here she was, learning from a man who would have been king. "What can you tell me about religion? All I've learned about that was the Great Stallion of the Dothraki and that my son is the destined Stallion Who will Mount the World" she said.

Gendry then looked rather shocked. "You have a son?" he asked. "I do. Viserys made me marry a Dothraki horselord named Drogo. He was terrifying when I first met him. But he turned to be the most gentle and caring man I'd know. But then he died at the hands of a witch" she said, scowling the last part. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine that kind of pain" he said. "Of course you can't. You weren't married nor did you lose your beloved to some vile sorcery. It was a miracle that my son Rhaego even survived. For that was what she was after; to kill my son" she said sadly. "I truly am sorry. I may not know about the loss of a beloved, but I will never know it. I was promised to someone before. She was lovely and every time I was with her, I felt this ... desire to protect her, shield her from every danger we'd come across" he said. He spoke with such passion. It sounds as if he loved her or would come to love her. "So. Religion" she said. "Ah, yes. Want to get a hand on that now, would we? First off, the Northern families, like the Mormonts don't really believe in the Seven Gods of the Andals. They keep to the Old Gods of the Forest. The Old Gods ..."

**Littlefinger**

Now that he was Harrenhal's new lord, he had secretly made his way back into the Eyrie. And she was more than excited. "You've come for me. I knew you'd come for me, Petyr" Lysa said, as she happily embraced him. "Of course, my dear" he said. "Sweet Petyr, I've missed you so, you don't know, you can't know. I know that husband of mine pined for his whore, dreamt of her. He would want to shout out her name as we fucked. I know it. But I knew you would come for me. I dreamt of you. Only you, Petyr. I've dreamed of you so long." she whispered. "And I of you, my lady. I would have come much sooner had I been able to" he said smoothly. He slid an arm around behind her and kissed her on the neck. "How soon can we be wed?"

"Now," said Lady Lysa, sighing. "I can call upon the septon, and a singer, and have the handmaidens bring mead for the wedding feast."

"Here?" That did not please him. "I'd sooner wed you at the Eyrie, with your whole court in attendance."

"Poo to my court. I have waited so long, I could not bear to wait another moment." She put her arms around him. "I want to share your bed tonight, my sweet. I want us to make another child, a brother for Robin or a sweet little daughter."

"I dream of that as well, sweetling. Yet there is much to be gained from a great public wedding, with all the Vale—"

"No." She stamped a foot. "I want you now, this very night. And I must warn you, after all these years of silence and whisperings, I mean to scream when you love me. I am going to scream so loud they'll hear me in the Eyrie!" He forced a smile for Lysa then, she would become a dead weight around his neck when they'd all fall but he would have to deal with that when the time came. For now he would content himself with being her devoted husband and bed her with willingness. With enough wine down his throat it should not be too hard for him to convince himself that she was Catelyn.

**Yup. Looks like things are beginning to heat up between the Dragon Queen and the Bull. Robard has now rallied the men unto Stannis' claim. **


	19. Chapter 19

**299 AC**

**Jon**

"You wish to be a great knight, Jon Greystark?" Beric asked him. "Yes, yes I do. Perhaps not a great knight, not a legendary knight. Just the best one I can be" he said. "Honest to a fault. No doubt in my mind that your Ned's kin" Lord Thaddeus said. "My lord, if you don't mind my asking. What happened to your children? Have they perished?" Jon asked.

Thaddeus now looked somber. "I faintly recall them. I sent Tommard with his betrothed Carellen Smallwood in Oldtown. I sent Denyse away to the Arbor so that she would be kept safe in the arms of Lord Redwyne's only smart son Desmond. I sent Marissa to Honeyholt for protection and get to know her betrothed Hugh Beesbury" he said. "Why send them there? To the homes of their betrothed?" he asked. "I didn't just do it so that they wouldn't see strangers, but to protect my children." Thaddeus said.

"Matrimony not only binds the souls of two, but it protects them as well. My younger brothers are foolhardy but I know they'll hold and rule the riverlands well" he said. "They call Lord Sebaston Tully the "Swordfish. Why is that? I thought the sigil of House Tully was a leaping trout" he asked. "I don't recall" he said. "I believe I remember the tale well. He envied the name of his uncle Brynden's moniker. The Blackfish. So, he came up with something fairly close. Granted, its not our house sigil but he wanted a good name that was on par with his skill with a blade" Beric said.

"He's that good?" he asked. "Good enough. Not as good as me though" Thaddeus said, smiling. "How would you arrange a betrothal?" he asked. "Why? Is there some one you're interested in?" Beric asked. "The White Wolf want a mate and breed pups?" Thoros japed. "No. For my sister, Arya" he said. "You've been in charge of the care of the Lord of Starfall, Edrick Dayne. I'd been taking care of my sister, and looking to her best interests. Perhaps, it can benefit them both" Jon said. "You would want to Lady Arya to be betrothed to Ned?" Thaddeus asked. "No. No, I don't" someone said.

Jon then turned his head and saw Arya right behind him. "Arya" But she didn't listen. Instead, she smacked him square in the jaw and then ran off. He then went off after her.

**Arya**

Stupid. Stupid, stupid Jon. How could he do this to her? He knew out of everyone that she did not want to be married. And yet, there he was talking of betrothals with Lord Beric Dondarrion, the Lightning Lord. Ghost quickly came to her and began to nuzzle her as she sat down on one of the many weirwood stumps. "You wouldn't hurt me, wouldn't you, Ghost?" she said somberly. Ghost then let out a small whimper.

"I am sorry Arya." Jon said as he came behind her. She felt his words were to be feeble things. "I never meant to hurt you."

Jon imagined others would have known a better way to start, perhaps even saying something that could put her at ease. All he could do was speak to what he knew

Arya wouldn't meet his eyes, instead shaking her head as she did her best to hide within Ghost's fur.

"I didn't mean to hit you." She said quietly. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"I don't think you meant to hurt anyone. You were angry and upset." He seized the chance to come closer, kneeling before both Ghost and Arya.

"Wolves may fight and hurt one another but it doesn't mean they are no longer family. They still care for one their kin."

"They love each other." Arya said firmly. "Like brothers and sisters should."

Her eyes finally found his, narrowed and with a hint of anger.

"Not like what you were trying to do with me."

There was never any strife between them, not ever. She remembered the tales of her earlier infancy. How she would cry on end and continue crying. No one could calm her down. Not her brother Robb, not her sister Sansa, not even her mother or her father. She didn't calm down until one day, Jon had come by her cradle. Her father told her that she smiled for him, calmed down for him. And she knew it was true. Of all her siblings, she got along with Jon the most and loved him the most.

She's just about lost all of her family, she won't lose her brother, her favorite person as well.

If given the chance, Jon would do what he could to mend their bond yet now wasn't the time to try. There were more difficult things that needed to be said and he would not shirk from it any longer.

"Arya, what you heard between me and the others… it was not as you think."

"You weren't going to leave me? Your own sister?"

She had obviously not meant to be helpful, yet her sarcastic questioning made the path to what he would say clearer before him. Jon shook his head and ran his hand over his face as he prepared himself to do what he must.

"I was and I wasn't."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She scrunched up her face and gave him the same look she'd give Maester Luwin or Septa Mordane when she thought their words quite useless. "You either were or you weren't! Please Jon, don't try and trick me…"

Before she could continue he reached out to grasp her shoulder. Ghost's head was so close now he could feel her hot breath waft over his neck. It was strangely comforting, yet it did little enough to ease what came next.

"I was trying to betroth you, yes." He squeezed Arya's shoulder for strength, to give her some and to find his own. "But I was thinking of your safety more than an alliance."

"My safety? I'm not a frail doll!" She yelled. "You know that marriage is the last thing on my mind! I'm not stupid Sansa who dreams about magical knights taking me to their castle"

"You know that, Jon!" Arya went on, standing to look down at him. "Why would you do that to me?!"

"Arya, please listen to me. I know that you're a fighter. You've always been a fighter" He tried to reach for her face but she jerked away.

Arya's frustration boiled over in a shout of anger, spinning around to throw a fist against the weirwood.

"Then why do this to me!" She slammed her fist on the weirwood stump, and again. "You and I, it was always us!"

"Arya no!" He wrapped the girl in his arms, pulling her back against him and away from the weirwood.

She struggled fiercely against him but he would not let go. Red smears of blood adorned the pale white bark of the stump where her fists had landed.

That's because of you, he thought, you drove her to such.

"Why can't you see it?!" Arya did her best to free herself. "I don't want to wear frilly dresses! I don't want to be the perfect little lady! I just want to be free! For you and me to be free, fighting side by side! Why? Why do you want to send me away?"

Her struggles lessened with each cry. The anger in her voice was falling away and taking on a tone more akin to desperation. He chanced to lower her to her feet, turning her so they faced one another.

Jon marveled at how her eyes could blame you and beseech you all at once.

"Why don't you want me?" Arya asked then, the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh Arya…" He felt the shame worse than ever. "You have to know it's not like that…"

"I'm not gonna be the perfect little wife. I can't be" She sniffed. "That Ghost of High Heart said that I have a darkheart but I-I don't. I, I … don't think I do. I don't want to be anything else, I just want to be your sister. I want you to call me your little wolf and wildling queen, like you used to back in Winterfell and… please, please don't give up on me…"

Jon's heart broke at the girl's words. He knew what she had to endure in her travels but he could never have imagined that she would somehow convince herself that she was evil. The thought that Arya believed him capable of giving up on her made Jon pull her into another embrace, this time trying to protect the girl rather than restrain her.

He held her tightly against him and although her arms remained listlessly at her sides he cared not. All he wanted was to hold Arya and let her know she was cared for whether she was his sister or his cousin. He rested his chin against the top of her head as he gently rocked the girl.

"You are not evil. Nor are you dark or wicked or anything of the like." He whispered against her hair. "But please listen to me."

He pulled back to look down at her, Arya's eyes finding his as he did so, hers glistening in the moonlight.

"We are so alike Arya… truth be told, I'd love to have you fighting by my side. But I am thinking of your safety." He inclined his head towards the tree stumps behind them. "I'd like for the gods to keep you safe. I want to keep you safe more than anything. I'd rather see you married and miserable rather than being butchered or Gods know what else. And it's not like I'll be leaving you, I'm coming with you."

He the looked at her sternly. "You and me, we're a pack. We wolves take great care of our own. No matter what happens, I will always be your brother. You can't get rid of me that easily"

"I am your brother. In my heart, in my skin, in my being, I can be nothing less." He felt his own voice tremble then. "Blood makes us kin but you have been my sister since I held you as a babe and you smiled at me. I love you no less now than I did then and I hope you still love me too. I would be your brother, now and always… if you would have me."

Arya's eyes lowered then, her face now hidden against his chest. She made no effort to speak, her body just remained listless in his embrace. Time passed in silence, Ghost eyeing them almost curiously. For every moment Arya remained quiet a deep, horrible fear rose up within him.

He tried to think of what else he could say to ward off such a fate. Jon had never been good with words and worried what his failings were costing him now.

That was until he felt Arya begin to move. Her arms reached up and wrapped around him, her hands grasping against his back tightly.

Embracing him as earnestly as he did her.

"Say it again." She whispered. "Say you're my brother. No matter what happens. Say it."

He would not fail her then.

"I am and will always be your brother, Arya Stark."

They stayed like that for some time, holding each other as the sun had begun to fall. The wind now blowing at them, carrying off a familiar scent. Home. Ghost then came to them laying his body to them for warmth yet he still pulled off the furs around his neck and placed it around Arya's shoulders.

"I'm fine." She scowled, but she accepted the cloak anyway.

"I will always worry for you, no matter what." He smiled, kissing the top of her head. "Let a brother care for his sister."

Arya pulled away from him at that, her brow furrowed.

**Robard**

"How many men has the Vale lost?" he asked. "Five hundred went off with Renly. Mostly young men who had never seen or been in a fight before. I sent five hundred of my men to their deaths" Raymont said. "We need to regroup. Assemble as much men as we can. Which of your vassals can rally the most men?" he asked. "House Royce can assemble a good 5,000 fighting men" Raymont said, slumping into his chair and sighing. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Lord of the Vale. I'm now Raymont Arryn; Defender of the Vale, Lord of the Eyrie and Warden of the East. I never thought it would happen like this. It was supposed to belong to Cliff. But he barely wanted it. Said that he was fine with being Knight of the Bloody Gate. And I never thought this would happen as I watched my father die" Ray harshly whispered. Robard then put a hand on the shoulder of his friend. "We must do our duty now more than ever. You are Lord of the Vale now. You need to fight. You need to fight to ensure the safety of your people" Robard said.

"Oy. How's the council doing?" Osbert said. He looked rather jovial today. He was definitely more Tully than Arryn than Raymont. He was now more broad-shouldered than stocky, his red-brown hair now reaching his shoulders. Right next to him was a young man who could easily be Raymont's twin. The young man has the same sandy brown hair, the same aquilie nose, and looks every inch like the young lord: straight as a lance, clean-limbed, and hard with muscle. It was eerie looking at him. "Who's this?" he asked. "Oh, this is Harry Hardyng. The newest member of the Brotherhood of the Winged Knights" he said. He then dismissed the young knight.

"I'm sorry. The Brotherhood of what now?" Raymont said. "I figured that with Stannis having his Kingsguard and Robard having his personal guard, we ought to have one as well." Osbert said. "That's not a bad idea. But why "Winged Knights"?" he asked. "When I came up with the idea, I remembered how much I loved the tales of Artys Arryn, The Winged Knight who slew the Griffin King. And how it was Robin's very favorite tale as well." he said. "You filled all the spots?" Raymont asked. "Harry was all eager to join. Cousin Tywell has joined as well. Sorry for stealing some of your men, but Guyard Morrigen and Parmen Crane has decided to join as well. Strangely fitting how a crow and a crane are protecting a falcon" Osbert jested. "Its fine. They're more than hungry for battle than anyone." Robard said. "But,um, Lady Brienne of Tarth had left." he said. "Shame. She was a good fighter" he said.

"Who else?" Raymont asked. "Robar Royce. Sorry for that as well. He's the Lord Commander of it for now. I did promise him that he would be the Lord Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing once we take it. And finally a hedge knight named Shadrick. Calls himself the Mad Mouse" Osbert said. "A hedge knight. Is that wise appointing a hedge knight to swear to protect us?" Raymont asked. "We'll be fine. His desire for battle is better than a desire for glory" Osbert said. "And you're certain we can count on him?" Raymont asked. "Absolutely" Osbert said.

"Lord Arryn! Lord Arryn" said the maester as he came to their chambers. "Yes, maester Jurne?" Raymont asked. "I had been tending to your lord father's body so that it may be sent to the Eyrie to be properly buried alongside his father and so on." he said. "What is it?" he said, his patience running thin. "It's just that... As the Silent Sisters and I were tending to him. We saw something rather strange. It appears that he had been given sweetsleep" he said.

"Sweetsleep? My father had never taken it. He couldn't have. My father was a healthy man" Osbert said. "Hold on a minute Os. He had been sick as of late" Raymont said. "It was rather strange that Lord Denys was becoming rather sick shortly as Jon Arryn had died. " Robard said. "What was stranger was how our mother tried to get us out of King's Landing shortly after our Lord grand-sire's death, but she didn't try to get father out as well. She did only get out with Robin" Osbert pointed out. He then got up. "In the midst of chaos, even the lowliest of people can climb and rule the kingdoms of ashes. Gather every man you have. We march for King's Landing in a week's time" he said. And then I will find and slay that man myself.

**Sansa**

She had that dream again. It was so strange. Why was she having those dreams. She kept seeing waves crash upon the shores of an island. It must be Dragonstone she thought. But it couldn't be Dragonstone, for something about that place was different. It seemed more lively, she even smelt something. She smelt something like winter roses. She also saw what she thought was Robb and Bran. But it couldn't be. Robb was out fighting the war and Bran was in Winterfell. And Robb looked so much different in her dream. He looked fiercer and wilder than she remembered. She also saw him wielding a sword that had a strange shimmer to it.

When she woke up, she woke up to the sight of Tyrek and Daven's stares. She hated it. Daven and Tyrek still kept looking at her strangely. Like she was carrying the plague or something. But she was immediately cheered up by the sight of Edric who was resuming his training, or trying to. He was trying to practice with a warhammer. He seemed disappointed that he could not wield it like his father once did. "You'll be fine. And you shouldn't be straining yourself" she said to him. "I have the blood of the Baratheons within me. I am a Warrior's man, like my father and like my brother. I don't want to disappoint them" he said.

What is he trying to prove? Is he trying to prove something to me? "You don't disappoint, Ric" she said, kissing his neck. "I wanted to be a Ser. I promised myself that if I were to be married in the sight of Gods and Men, that I would be a knight like my father. One of the best knights the realm would ever see" Edric said. "You may not be a knight yet, but you will be the best the realm has ever seen" she said. "Thank you, Sansa" he said, lightly brushing her hair.

She then went back into her chambers and saw Tyrek standing about. "The fox and the wolf" he said, seemingly mocking. "Looks like you are like your family" Sansa said, coldly. "Lady Sansa, wait! Please, forgive me. I shouldn't have said that" he said. "Fine. What is it you want?" she said rather rudely. "I'd just like to ask about your marriage with Edric. You seem to be getting along great for having bedded one another" Tyrek said. "We get along just fine. And he's the most kind, courteous and true person I've come to know. I'm glad I married him" she said.

"Alright then. Sorry for insulting you. It's just tha -. I know you probably hate me. I know you hate my family; everybody hates my family. It was just that I - . I thought of asking you for your hand in marriage before. Daven was a little judgmental but he definitely sees love between you both" Tyrek said. Her mother often told her that she was such a radiant beauty that people would fight for her hand. She never thought this would be the case, especially considering that she was already then gave her a small kiss. It was rather unexpected. Whereas Edric was gentle and his lips were soft, Tyrek's were rather rough and more paused.

"Get off" she snarled out like the wolf she truly was. "i-I'm sorry. I, I don't know what came over me" he said, immediately leaving. A lion and a wolf. Maybe in a different life, she thought

**Daenerys**

She had done it. She had taken the Unsullied from the "good masters" of Astapor. The Unsullied solider called Grey Worm now had command of the Unsullied. And she felt a distinct fondness for the scribe Missandei. She found herself enjoying the company of The King Who Could Have Been. As she made her way to her tent, she saw something strange. It was Gendry with her son Rhaego and Irri and Jhiqui. They seemed to be playing with the boy. "So, if he's half a horse and half dragon, what would he be called then?" he asked. "He would be Stallion that Mounts the World." Irri said. "I know. But what would his formal title be? Khal Rhaego, right?" he asked. "Khalasar follow strength of Khal Rhaego. He prove them all" Jhiqui said. "The Silver Stallion will prove them all. Khal Zhavorsa" Gendry said. "Dothraki tongue not easy to master. But you are almost as good as the Khaleessi" Jhiqui said.

They then took notice of her. "Khaleesi" "My Queen" "Irri, Jhiqui. Leave us." she said. Jhiqui then put the squirming baby Rhaego into her arms. "He's a very beautiful baby, my queen. The copper skin of the Dothraki and wisps of your Targaryen silver hair. He's going to grow up to be a very strong and handsome young lad" he said, smiling. She then looked to him. "I still remember what the dosh khaleen said about him. As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, with arakhs shining in their hands like blades of razor grass. Fierce as a storm this prince will be. His enemies will tremble before him, and their wives will weep tears of blood and rend their flesh in grief. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name" she said sadly.

"I truly am sorry for your loss" he said. She knew his words to be true. "Now, shall we proceed with our lessons?" she asked. "Of course. We've already discussed religion. What would you like to know now?" he asked. "The Kingsguard. Seeing as I am the rightful queen of Westeros, I would need a Queensguard. Who do you think I should appoint?" she asked. "Well, there has been only one actual Queensguard in all of Westeros' history. The Queensguard of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. Your Queensguard must be very much like the Kingsguard; loyal brave and true knights who would stand by your side and give their life for yours if need be" he explained. "Of course. Who should I appoint?" she asked.

"Well, when you swear your vow into the Kingsguard, or in this case, Queensguard, you swear for your life. You cannot marry, own lands or father children. Which is why many of them are the second or third-born sons of families. Naturally, Ser Jorah would be fit for that as he was stripped of his title of Lord of Bear Island, and he is a good swordsman. And Ser Barristan. He may be old but he's still a good swordsman and is still considered a legend" he explained. "Jorah mentioned that his son now rules his home. You said you were in the North once. Did you meet him?" she asked. "I did in passing, the both of them. Good people his sons" he said. "Who else would I appoint? Perhaps some of my bloodriders and Belwas?" she said. "I'm not sure if that is wise, Your Grace. I have no doubt in my mind that your bloodriders and Strong Belwas are good fighters, but their fighting methods would be an encumbrance. Especially from what I've heard on how Belwas fights" he said. "I see"

"I'd like to ask you something" she asked. "You are asking me something" he pointed out. She chuckled at that. "I heard from Ser Barristan that you were called the Blacksmith Prince. Why is that?" she asked. "Because I preferred to make weapons than just use them. When I was little, I ran off from the Red Keep and found my way into Tobho Mott's shop in the Street of Steel. He was a blacksmith from Qohor. I was just outside his shop when I left from my lessons and he believed that I was the apprentice he asked for. I told him that I was and for a good week I had learned from him and had the most fun. When the actual apprentice came, I shooed him away and told him that he was a thief. By the time the guards actually did find me, he was so shocked and bowed before me. I told him that I would have none of that because I was his smithy. One of the guards made a jape about that, and that's how earned my name" he said. They then both laughed loudly and heartily.

"I think I have an answer to your solution, Your Grace" he said. What would his answer be? He then took the bull's head helmet that lain beside him, and then unsheathed his sword. He then placed the helm on and knelt before her. "I, Gendry of the House Baratheon, do solemnly swear to you, Queen Daenerys Targaryen. My sword is yours, and my life is yours in victory and defeat. I will be one of your Queensguard" he said, his voice echoing through the helm. "Why? Why be a part of my Queensguard?" "There won't be anything left for me in Westeros. I offer you my services as a knight. And as a teacher to you" he said, taking off his helmet.

"I should go, my queen" he said, going back to his own tent. "Wait!" she called out. He then turned his head. "I'd like to know more of my family's history in our next lesson" she said. He then nodded and said "of course, my queen". "Daenerys. My name is Daenerys Targaryen" she said proudly and strongly. He nodded and then left. Her heart now felt heavy. She hadn't felt it this heavy before. Not since Drogo. She then looked to her sleeping son with sadness.

**Yara**

She could scarcely believe that her father had died. It sounded pathetic how he died, considering the great man he was. Fell off of a bridge. She thought Euron would be saddened by it, but he barely said anything. Perhaps the boy inside him was still alive, he may not have completely become the man the Kraken King wanted. "You'd do him proud" she said. "You made him prouder" he said. "You should be leading. Be the Queen of the Iron Islands. I'll help you in any way I can" he said. "Euron. After Theon, you're our father's heir" she said. "Have you forgotten our ways? We're Ironborn. We take what is ours. I'm not meant to be King. I'm not sure if Theon is either. But I know you can rule them. For you are the Kraken's Daughter" he said. He then gave her a small kiss on the cheek, like he used to when he was still little. Just then, Damphair and Victarion came about.

"Hello uncle, come to help me claim my crown?" she said arrogantly now. Her brother's humility and her recent conquests had evidently not helped her learn humility."You cannot stand to me" He scoffed, "No woman can rule the Ironborn. Tell her Damphair." "He is right Yara, you may have the respect of many, but a woman's battle is in the bed chamber with your little Daegon. May the Drowned God bless that little one" he said. He just had to remind her of Daegon; her only son with Harras. Still, he had a point. Only five years old and he's already showing the making of a true Ironborn.

"Piss on that uncle. I have led men to battle, conquered and taken castles, just as you have." Rodrik The Reader entered the discussion now, "Yara, none of us here doubt your skill, but you must see that the captains will not accept it. Especially with the terms you offer."

"What is wrong with peace? We have made immense gains in the North, why lose them now?" she said. "You would have us bend the knee again? You are a soft woman! When I am King you will be what you are. No discussion. Rodrik, my friend, can I count on Harlaw support?" Victarion boomed out. "Doomed as it may seem Victarion, I am bound to offer support to my blood. I will shout for Yara at the Moot, though I will not speak for my captains." The Reader said. "Very well. I had hoped for your counsel Reader, but evidently you would have us ruled by a woman, maybe you are as soft as they say." Victarion boomed out again.

The feasting and entreating continued for another week, and throughout that time Victarion pointedly avoided the Crow's Eye as he approached. However, as the captains gathered there was no escaping him. His lips and eye were bluer than he remembered, and his skin paler than she saw him last. "Ah little brother, come to help me claim the Driftwood Crown?"

"Not on your life, Crow's Eye." Victarion snarled. "Come now, why do you hate me so? You're not still hung up on that business with your third wife are you? Get over it Victarion." Urrigon "Crow's Eye" said. "You made me kill her." Victarion snarled out, but it was more like a soft growl of a newborn pup. "She killed herself when she sucked my cock, and she was _oh so __willing_. I wouldn't marry again if I were you brother, or you might find that all women have the same faults." His smiling eye gleamed brighter, and he turned away.

_No man is as accursed as the kinslayer_. At this moment being accursed sounded damn good and rewarding. Aeron had taken the platform and begun to shout, "Balon is dead. Who shall be our King?"

The first to come forward was some Blacktyde lordling, but many had lost interest as they heard him speak of trade and seals. The captains would not shout for him, and true enough, only his own men did. Next came Erik Anvilbreaker, then a Drumm. Both were rejected. Erik had been mighty, but was old and so fat he had to be carried up to speak. All his supporters abandoned him when Yara challenged him to stand and he could not. Victarion had smiled at this, so much so that he missed all of what Drumm said, though his applause was similarly uninspiring. He prepared to stake his claim, but saw Aeron shake his head._To soon_. He had better wait a little longer.

Yara stood, with her husband Harras Harlaw and Tristifer Botley as her champions. "The Crow's Eye is a kraken. The elder brother comes before the younger. But I am the child of King Balon's body, so I come before you both. Peace. Land. Victory. I'll give you Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore, black earth and tall trees and stones enough for every younger son to build a hall. We'll have the northmen too ... as friends, to stand with us against the Iron Throne. Your choice is simple. Crown me, for peace and victory. Or crown my uncle, for more war and more defeat. What will you have, ironmen?" Jeered and mocked by many, though the Harlaws shouted, as did a few others. Euron had shouted for her claim. Then came her uncle came up.

"Ironborn!" He had always had a powerful voice, and now he used it to full effect. "Balon brought us back to the Old Way. Balon made us great again. What you'll get from me is more of what you got from him."

"Failed rebellions?" A man shouted from the back.

"No. Reaving and raiding as we did of old. Once more the Ironborn will rule wherever men can hear the sea. Lion and stags can fight for the greenlands, but the Kraken rules the sea. Thats what I offer you, the Old Way. And as many salt wives as you can take!" The silence which followed was deafening. For a moment, it looked like he'd made a mistake, but then it happened. Starting as a rumble at the back, the roar of shouts spread like wildfire and before long, all the captains were roaring his name. "King Victarion! King Victarion!" The Damphair came forward and hushed the crowd. "Shall Victarion Greyjoy be our King?"

"NO!" The Crow's Eye did not shout, but his voice carried as if aided by some fell magic. "I shall rule." The Drowned Priest's response was swift, "No godless man may sit the Seastone Chair. Victarion is King!"

Crow's Eye then stood proud and true. "My lords, my fellow Ironborn. Yes, my brother made you great. His eldest boy slain as he was trying to make us great again. His second son has more than likely become a Northern whore. His daughter has more balls than any one of you. His youngest; still so green that he pisses grass. Would you have another man make you great? We are the ironborn, and once we were conquerors. Our writ ran everywhere the sound of the waves was heard. My brother would have be content with the cold and dismal north, my niece and young nephew with even less ... but I shall give you Lannisport. The Arbor. Oldtown. The riverlands and the Reach, the kingswood and the rainwood, Dorne and the marches, the Mountains of the Moon and the Vale of Arryn, Tarth and the Stepstones. I say we take it **all!** I say, we take **Westeros!"**

Suddenly, they began to shout "KING URRIGON! KING URRIGON!" Oh, we are truly fucked.

**Alys**

She ran as fast as she could with Daryn behind her. His features were sharp, his body wiry. He was a fairly handsome youth, with a thick mane of curls, the color of cedar. They already knew who was after them, but didn't know why. Ramsay Snow, the famed Bastard of Bolton who fancied himself a trueborn Bolton. She knew of the tales too well. She remembered how her father had told her rumours that he had killed Domeric Bolton's elder brother Ellard and possibly plotted to kill Dom as well. They kept running as fast as they could. He was definitely a Bolton as she heard that he enjoys flaying people alive.

"I know it's kinda selfish for saying this, but I miss my home. I miss my mother and father. I even miss Larrence" he said. "Larrence? Isn't Larrence your baseborn brother?" she asked. "Yeah. And? Just because he was baseborn doesn't mean that he isn't my brother. Would you say that if Torrhen or Harrion or Eddard were baseborn?" he asked. "Torr annoys the crap out of me, and Harry and Edd can be dreadful. But they will always be my brothers" she said fiercely. She felt as if he were insulting his family. "Exactly. No matter what he's my brother" he said just as fiercely, shocking her.

"He had gotten drunk one night and bedded an innkeep leagues away from Hornwood. She brought him to my father. My sister Lydrea had been borne the year past and I wanted a brother. But my mother wouldn't have any of that. She told the innkeep to keep her bastard away from my family. But my father sent her money until she died after Larrence's fifth nameday. I'd visited him and played with him. And not once did I call him a Snow or bastard. But then my mother and father found out, and they decided it'd be best if they sent Larrence to foster with the Glovers" he said, tears forming in his eyes. "I never thought of him to be less of me. But my mother always found a way to do that. It's her fault that he's dead. I hate that she killed my brother" he cried out. "Daryn. Larrence chose to go, he didn't want you to get hurt" she said. "It wasn't just that. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to prove that he was more than just a Snow. Well, she got what she wanted" he said rather harshly.

He didn't just want a brother, he wanted to be an elder brother. A real elder brother like Torr and Harry and Edd. He wanted to protect him. "It's alright, Daryn. It's alright" she said. He then got up. "C'mon, we better get a move on." he said.

"Are we there? Are we close?" she asked. "To the Wall? No. But we're close to the Last Hearth. The Umbers could protect us" Daryn said. "Are you certain about this Daryn?" she said. "Not entirely. We can either head to the Last Hearth or continue to make our way to the Wall for protection or ..." he said, trailing off. "Or what?" she asked. "Or we could head to Skagos" he said. "Skagos? That accursed place?" she said shrilly. "We could either be attacked by savages, stay with the Umbers for how long, or let ourselves be flayed" Daryn stated.

He was right though. The Skagossi were famed for being and breeding the most fearsome warriors. Rumour was that they still practiced the tradition of the First Night and were as brutal as the Dothraki. But he had a point. They would probably be doomed either way. "Let's find a boat" she said.

It didn't take long to find a boat. It was a small, dingy worn out old trading galley. But it had taken at least three days to get to the accursed island. As they made it to the shores of the island, it seemed desolate, but then they saw something. A rather small sea lion barking loudly. Suddenly, a young man with long unkempt dark honey-colored hair came up about them unsheathing a shimmering sword. Valyrian steel, she thought to herself. Suddenly, two small boys approached along with some other creatures. A goat with a singular horn and a large wolf with glistening green eyes.

The man the shouted something in the Old Tongue. "Um. We are Northerners" she said nervously. "We haven't come to fight. We simply seek shelter" Daryn said. "Really now?" said a fierce-looking woman with a hard face and shaggy brown hair. Before they could say or do anything, another boy came about. "Stop. Wait! I know him. Daryn? Daryn, is that you?" the boy said. This boy had a mop of wild brown-blond hair and hard eyes. "Edmyn? Little Edmyn Ryder!" Daryn said, stretching out his arms as the boy came to hug him.

"It's alright. We can trust him. This is Daryn Hornwood, he was a good friend to me and my father and brother. What're you doin' here Daryn?" Edmyn Ryder asked. "Someone really wanted to kill us. We went off to seek shelter and warmth" he said. "I'm very sorry for intruding on your lands, my lady" she said. "I'm not a lady and these aren't my lands either. I'm protecting the boys, along with Ser Snowbear" she said, pointing to the shaggy young man with the sword. "You seem familiar" she said. "Alys. You're Alys Karstark, aren't you?" he said. How did he know her name? He was definitely a Northerner and looked quite familiar. "Cregard? Be you Cregard Mormont?" she said. "I am. And we are here doing our duty. Protecting Prince Rickon Stark of Winterfell" he said, pointing to the small red-haired boy next to the wolf. No, he couldn't be she thought.

She faintly recalled having met Robb Stark when she and her father visited Winterfell when she was small. He looked very much like him but a more wild version of him. He looked like he was ready to attack. "Would you do your duty? Would you help us protect the Prince of the North?" he said. He looked like he'd need a mother and proper guidance. All of them did. "I will"

**Yup. Gendry and Daenerys possibly being shipped. Genderys? Daenendry? Something? Looks like Euron and Yara get along better than hoped, and Urrigon "Crow's Eye" Greyjoy will doom them all. Sorry about the drama with Sansa and Tyrek. Hope you liked the Alys chapter!**


	20. Chapter 20

**299 AC**

**Arya**

"Where are we going now?" she asked them. "Acorn Hall, I think. Lady Ravella has been kind to us." Lyman said. "She and Tom O'Sevenstreams used to be together" Ned chirped in with his share of gossip. Not that it mattered to her. They managed to reach Acorn Hall peacefully. Ravella Swann had beautiful smooth skin and long black hair. She reminded Arya of her mother by the shape of her face and the graceful way she moved her body. Before Arya could say anything Lady Smallwood examined her from head to toe, took her hands, and soothingly said: "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll find you something nice to wear. My daughter Carellen is about your age. My husband and I sent her to my aunt in Oldtown when the war began, for her own protection. Her betrothed is also there hiding with her. I do hop they get along. I'm sure we can still find you a nice dress. Now, how about we get you a bath as well?"

That didn't sound like a bad idea. She had been running around in this outfit for a long time now, and she couldn't even remember the last time that she had a bath and properly cleaned herself. So she left Edrick and trailed behind Lady Smallwood to the only building where there were actual living chambers. It was an old stone tower with a small adjoining house next to it. The Brotherhood had clearly done some restorations to the roof and the interior, and now they looked like real living quarters. A Septa was reading a book in the corner, where they had provided a rack of books. On the walls were the shields of a dozen Houses, some of which she recognized. Arya looked around in awe. They even had a fireplace! After the ransacked halls of Harrenhal, this was the first holding she could actually call a castle. Only it wasn't. It did not have the fortified stone brick walls or barracks. It didn't have crypts or a throne room. It had none of the things Winterfell had, but it was more than she had imagined.

Lady Smallwood helped her out of her flayed man rags and heated up some water at the fireplace. The Septa helped them rub her clean, which was easier said than done. They had to scrub so hard, she almost felt like she was being flayed herself. After that, Lady Smallwood went through one of the chests in the room next door and came back with a light green gown with acorns embroidered all over the bodice in brown thread. Arya wore it with brown woolen stockings and a light linen shift dress underneath. Lady Smallwood fussed at the gown and laced up Arya's back.

There," she said, "Now you look like a proper young lady." I'm not a lady, Arya wanted to tell her, I'm a wolf."I do not know who you are, child," the woman said, "and it may be that's for the best. Someone important, I fear." She smoothed down Arya's collar. "In times like these, it is better to be insignificant. Would that I could keep you here with me. That would not be safe, though. I have walls, but too few men to hold them." She sighed.

Supper was served by the time she was fully cleaned and clothed. She saw the men eyeballing her as she walked into the mess hall and felt embarrassed. She wasn't used to this. Usually it was Sansa with her colorful dresses and her long auburn hair that made the men's heads turn. When she caught Edrick Dayne and Lyman Darry in an open-mouthed stare, they spilled some of their wine in a desperate attempt to recover themselves, and Arya could barely hold her laughter. Suddenly, a high-pitched giggle cracked through her lips and completely blew Edrick's cover, because he turned fiercely red underneath his Dornish skin. Jon simply chuckled on the fact that she was in a dress. "I look like an oak tree with all of these stupid acorns" she said. "Nice though. A nice oak tree" Colen said. He then stepped closer and sniffed her. "You even smell nice for a change" She then struck him in the shoulder and muttered "Stupid". Jon and Ned got a laugh out of that.

Almost everyone fell asleep except Jon, Colen and Ned. "What do you think will happen? After the war?" Colen said. "Peace, hopefully. Everyone dreams of peace." Arya said. "Aye, everyone does dream for peace. What do you dream for?" Ned asked her. "Home. I dream of Winterfell, my boots crunching into the fresh snow. Seeing my mother again, my brothers, even my sister Sansa. And Jon and I fighting as sellswords." she said. "Good dreams. Ned. How 'bout you? You dream for home?" Colen asked. "Truth be told, I can't really dream for home. I haven't seen Starfall since I was six years old. Lord Beric has been like a father to me the whole time. But eventually, he'll be part of my family; he's betrothed to my aunt Allyria." he said.

She could see him smile at that prospect. She noticed that there was a closeness between the two. "But there are some strange dreams I've been having. It's like I'm seeing things, but its not with my eyes. I see the sun setting in the sky, and a red star falling down like a tear. And smelling something. Like the salt of the Narrow Sea. It's so strange" he lamented. That sounds like one of my dreams, she thought. "What about you, Colen ?" Ned asked. "I don't really dream. Sometimes I dream of my mother. Trying to remember how she looked like, but I can't. She died when I was little. All I remember is that she sang to me sometimes" he said. She then stared at him carefully. Colen surely had his own secret, though even he didn't seem to know what it was. "Jon? What about you? What do you dream of?" Ned asked. Jon then looked stiff. "C'mon, mate. We're talking about dreams. It's not like we're asking you about you and Bella" Colen laughed. That disgusted her a bit.

That bell-ringing twat kept pressing on about Jon "ringing her bell" and he ultimately gave in. She heard two of the most strangest things that night: Bella's screaming and moaning and how she didn't want pay from him. "It's nothing really" Jon said somber as ever. "What is it?" she asked. Jon then relented. And from what he was beginning to say, about looking for her, father or Robb, it sounded most strange. Like the wolf dreams she's been having.

"The castle is always empty… Even the ravens are gone from the rookery, and the stables are full of bones. That always scares me. I start to run then, throwing open doors, climbing the tower three steps at a time, screaming for someone, for anyone. And then I find myself in front of the door to the crypts. It's black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down. Somehow I know I have to go down there, but I don't want to. I'm afraid of what might be waiting for me. The old Kings of Winter are down there, sitting on their thrones with stone wolves at their feet and iron swords across their laps, but it's not them I'm afraid of. I scream that I'm not a Stark, that this isn't my place, but it's no good, I have to go anyway, so I start down, feeling the walls as I descend, with no torch to light the way. It gets darker and darker, until I want to scream."

She always thought of Jon as her brother, no matter what. She never knew just how out of place he's really felt. She then took his hand. "You are a Stark. Greystark or Stark, you're my brother. My brother." And then she did something that she would never normally do, not ever. She kissed him on the cheek, much like how she used to do so with Father. He then pulled her into a hug. "We should all get some rest now" he said. They all began to drift off to sleep.  
"Sleep well, Arya."  
"Sleep well, brother"

**Robard**

"Father" he said as he approached Stannis. "What is it?" he asked. "Everything is in order. There was some tension between the Reachmen and the Valemen, but we've managed to succeed in resolving it. The training for them seems to be working. With everything going the way it's going, we should march for King's Landing in two weeks time" he said. "That's good. I knew I could trust you in handling these affairs" Stannis said, smirking a bit. "Do we have enough naval power from them all?" he asked. "We should have more than enough for a naval assault. We have the Redwyne fleet at our disposal." Stannis said. Robard then nodded stiffly.

He then looked at him, no, glared at him. "Is there something else you need to tell me?" Stannis asked. "It's nothing. Ridiculous, really" "And yet, you want to ask me all the same. Out with it. I've always taught you to speak your mind. What is it?" Stannis said.

"It's been on my mind a lot. I've wondered for quite some time. You've never really talked about it; about her" Robard mumbled. He then saw a look of sadness on his father's face. He's seen him look annoyed or stressed because of his uncle Robert, but he's never seen him sad.

"I wasn't meant to marry your mother. I was betrothed to a Florent girl before. But then I saw her. Lady Jeyne Swann. Her hair was as dark as the midnight skies and her eyes were like fallen acorns. She had come to Storm's End to serve as a lady in waiting for my mother, Lady Cassana Estermont. I. I had never felt anything like it in my life. I knew I wanted her, wanted to ... be with her. And she wanted me too. After my own parents died, I barely wanted to live. But she convinced me to be strong, and then we hastily made the choice to be married. And when the Kingswood Brotherhood had taken her, I nearly lost myself. She was already pregnant with your sisters. When the Kingsguard brought her back, I vowed to never be torn apart from her again. But then I was. During the Rebellion"

"Me and Armond were born as it ended. Is that why you never talk about her? Because we killed her?" he said. "Don't interrupt me. She birthed you and your brother during the end of the siege. We were already starving enough as it is. You, your brother and your sisters probably would've died if it hadn't been for Ser Davos and his onions. But the birth had made your mother weak, and because of the lacking of food, she began to suffer from a terrible fever. And then she died, but made me promise to love and protect you all." he said. He then sighed, a great big and said sigh.

"It's so hard to look at your sister, Jena. She is so much more like her mother then Dyanna in ways that she'll never know. She could even be her ghost. When she died, I made a vow to never take another wife. But then I had to, by the order of the King" he said, in a more mocking tone. "King Robert **made** you marry again?" he said, perturbed by this. "Yes, my son. My beloved brother made me marry again. And it didn't even matter to him. I had angered the Florents when I decided to marry your mother, and Robert said I had to appease them; to make relations with the Reach. And he believed it to be a boon when he told me that I "would get my pick from the bunch". I protested against this and he didn't care. My wife died because of a war he started, for a girl he barely even knew, and he believed it to be okay to grant me a new wife. Like she was a prize of some sort." Stannis snarled.

He had never seen this side of him before. Stannis Baratheon was considered to be many things. A great commander. Frigid. Serious. But underneath the unwillingness to forget was a great deal of passion within his voice. He loved her. He loved his mother so much that something must have broke within his father. "So, you don't love Lady Delena?" he asked. "I care for her. I can't love her. Not like the way I loved your mother, but I care for her. She gave me three healthy children. And now one is dead because of the god-forsaken Lannisters. I'll kill them all if I have to" his father snarled. "Then there would be no one left to rule the Westerlands." he pointed out. "True enough." he said.

He then left. But he left with a smile. He may not have known the love of his mother, but he had the love of one. He now knew just what she meant to his father. And he smiled because of it.

**Bran**

He loved the stories that Meera told him. The Knight of the Laughing Tree was the most strangest one yet though. Why would his father not tell him that story? Was this when he met Jon's mother? Was it Ashara Dayne, the mysterious woman whom he had supposedly loved before his marriage to his mother? But then again, what did it matter? She was promised to his uncle Brandon, his namesake. Nearly everyone was sleeping except for Beron Snow.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked. "No, my prince. Just can't sleep is all" he said. "It seems strange. I don't understand it" he said. "Understand what?" "Understand whey we're doing this. Going beyond-the-wall for this three-eyed raven." Beron said. "Ever since I fell from the Broken Tower, it's been calling out to me every night in my dreams. I have to find it" Bran explained.

"Have to or want to? Does the thought of this "magic" bird give you hope that you can be whole again? Your legs will work again" Beron exclaimed. "But they won't ever be the same again. I won't be able to run or walk or climb like I used to. I'm practically a cripple." Bran said. "You're not a cripple. You're a boy. A boy who wants to find it, not because the bird's calling out to ya, but because it give you hope. Magic or not, this ... three-eyed raven gives you hope. Hope that you can be whole. Hope so that you can wholly love someone and to be loved wholly." Sam said.

Bran then felt himself blush. "Is that the other reason why? I've seen the way you look at her. You don't want her to look at you as some cripple, like someone so broken that he needs to be mended." he said. "What do you know about love?" he asked. "Oh, what do I know about it? I was in love once. But it couldn't happen, because my name is Beron Snow. All I remember about her now is the color of her hair. Not her name, not her face but her hair. Like the color of hay." he said.

He never realized it was truly bad being a bastard. Was it so bad being "being born on the wrong side of the sheets"? Did Jon feel that way? "Who was your mother?" he asked. "I don't know. No one at the Rills told me. The only thing that old Lord Ryswell told me is that my mother loved my father very much. And that it hurt every time she looked at me. Because all she saw was him" Beron said. "Who was your father?" he asked. "Dunno. No one told me that either" he said.

"Look at me" Bran commanded. Beron then looked directly at him. Bran studied the shape of his face, the eyes like grey as a dull blade. "Yes," he thought, "I see it."

**Yup. Contrary to popular belief, Stannis does have a heart! Some more fluff between Jon and Arya. Looks like Edrick and Arya might be getting there. Edrya? And Bran has a bit of a moment with the mysterious Beron Snow, and may have an idea as to who he is.**


	21. Chapter 21

**299 AC**

**Sansa**

"Do you love him?" Edric asked. She had felt guilty about it. She didn't want Tyrek's lips on hers. Now she was feeling more guilty for confessing what had occurred between them. "No" She uttered softly. "Please, don't lie to me" Edric said. "I don't, Edric. I gave myself to you, I love you" Sansa said. "I don't want there to be any lies between us" Edric said. He was so calm about this. How can he be so calm whilst I feel so guilty?

"Edric, I married you. I feel safe with you." Sansa said. "I'm just asking if you truly want to be with me. I know I love you, and I would give you everything if I could" he said. He was sweet, so sweet and kind to her. He wanted to be a knight more than anything now. "I know you would. Is that why you kept hitting him harder when you were training?" Sansa asked. Edric's eyes flared up a bit. "I saw you both trying to beat one another. It looked like a fight to the death or something" Sansa said. "To be fair, I was already beating him before he told me about what happened. He was feeling just as guilty" Edric said.

He then quickly lay on their featherbed and she followed. "Did you ever want to be a father?" she asked. "I don't know. I know I wanted to be a ser. It was the first thing I ever remember wanting. I never really thought of fatherhood. I thought if I met a nice girl, I would. And now I have" Edric said rather fast, and smiling. "What if I told you, that I was with child?" Sansa said. Suddenly, Edric deeply stared into her eyes and then placed his hand on her middle.

"Are you certain?" Edric said. "My bodices have felt tight. And I've been conferring with the maester. He believes so" Sansa said. "A father. I'll be a father" Edric whispered. He then pressed his face into her middle. "Um, hello. I'm not sure if you can hear me. But I'm going to be your father. I can't wait to see you" Edric whispered. She had never felt happier in her entire life. "What would you want to name him? Or her?" Sansa asked. "I'm not sure. Something simple and yet powerful. Titus. Gage. Randyll" He replied. "Good names. I had been thinking of naming him after my father if it were a boy" Sansa said. "Eddard Florent. Has a nice ring to it" He chuckled.

"What if it were a girl?" she asked. "Not sure. Mayhaps we could name it after your lady mother if it were a girl?" he said. "That'd be nice" she said. She then kissed his brow. She then began to kiss down his neck and begun to kiss him lower. "S-Sansa, are yo ..." "Yes, I'm certain. I'm yours, and you're mine." she said, and began to kiss him again with as much passion she could muster. She moaned as he sought entrance to her mouth with his tongue and squealed as she felt his hand grab her breast, palming it through her dress. Edric pulled away and turned her so that he could unlace the back of her dress, biting her neck gently and sucking on the soft skin as he did so, eliciting yet another groan from her. His hands deftly undid the string and tugged her dress down below her breasts, letting it pool onto the floor. He took her creamy breasts in each hand and kneaded them softly, groaning into her neck as he felt himself harden at the sound of her moans. He turned her back around to face him and begun to trail kisses down her body, taking each nipple into his mouth in turn, sucking gently on them until she whimpered in response.

He kissed her down until her mound and then switched to her thighs, kissing up each one, leaving for the next when he came tantalizingly close to her slit. "OH! Edric! More!" she begged. He grinned rather wolfishly and did as he asked. She cried out in pleasure as he licked her, lapping up her juices until she came in ecstasy, quivering beneath his touch. He stood and pushed her back onto the bed, unlacing his britches and stepping out of them and she began swaying her wide hips seductively. Edric growled with arousal and, when she reached him, took her head in his hands. "You are mine. And I am yours" he said, his voice wavering slightly.

She had an uncertain feeling and sensation throughout her lips and suddenly engulfed his member with her soft lips. Edric groaned loudly with pleasure as she began to move her mouth up and down his length, gagging slightly when it reached the back of her throat but continued despite it. She went faster and faster, bringing him ever closer to his release, but just before he reached it, Edric pulled out and pushed her back onto the bed. Crawling forward on top of her, he guided himself to her entrance and slid his whole length into her in one smooth stroke, gasping at the pleasure of her tightness and causing her to cry out in pleasure. Edric stayed still inside her as she adjusted to his member, pressing kisses to her mouth and neck and breasts as he waited, getting small whimpers from her as he did so. He gave her a small smile and began to rock his hips, thrusting inside her, the sheer ecstasy of her tightness making him breathless. As he continued to grind his hips against hers, he reached his hand down, looking for the small nub that seemed to give girls so much pleasure. After a few seconds she gave a loud cry, causing him to grin in triumph. He rubbed her there, bringing forth gasps and moans and whimpers in ever increasing number until she crested her wave of pleasure and came undone around him, her walls clenching and unclenching as she thrashed around underneath him. Having brought her to climax twice now, Edric turned his mind to his own pleasure and flipped her round onto her stomach, sliding himself back into her and beginning to pump away hard. He pulled her back to meet him as he thrust forward, pounding against her rear and reaching around her to grab her large, creamy breasts, kneading them in his hands, grunting into her hair as he began to reach his peak. A few more thrusts and he came to his release, spilling his seed inside her, groaning with pleasure and panting from the exertion.

"Sansa" he whispered into her hair, so quiet that she could barely hear it herself, but she knew that he had said it; it was too quiet for Sansa to hear. He rolled off her and lay panting on his back, basking in the ecstasy of the afterglow of their coupling. When she woke, he wasn't there. She suddenly missed his touch, the feel of his arms and hands holding and caressing her. But within an instance, Edric had already returned to their chambers fully clad in armor. "Edric" she breathed out. "I have to leave" Edric said. "Leave? Where are you leaving to?" she asked.

"King's Landing. Daven heard from Ser Axell that Stannis is marching toward the city. I'm going with them" Edric said. "You're leaving me?" she choked. "I'm going with them, and I'm not leaving you. I'll come back" he said. He believed it to be true but she knew it was a lie. He was going into battle; he was going to fight so that he may kill Joffrey himself. A lot of people wanted that honor.

"No. You're not going to die" She said. "I won't" he insisted. "Let someone else kill Joffrey. Just stay with me" she said. "He killed my brother. He deserves to die" he snarled. "Gendry was also Joffrey's brother, and for that he will burn in all seven hells. But please, I beg of you Edric, don't go" she said, beginning to cry. "Sansa, this is hard enou -" he said until she cut him off by pressing a hard kiss onto his lips. He then began to kiss her back. But it was different. Whereas their other kisses were slow, passionate and filled with love, these were passionate, lustful and desperate.

"I should be going…" Edric said between the kisses Sansa was stealing of him. "I should be riding with the others… with Daven and…"

"No, not you…" Sansa pulled away, leaving him kissing at the empty air. "Not if you truly love me. You spend too much time training, patrolling, gathering men…"

"I'm proving myself a good man. A lord worthy of a fine lady." Edric frowned. "Your brother will hate me Sansa. He'll just see me as the bastard I am… he won't care that I've been named a Florent or a Baratheon…"

"You could be named mud and I wouldn't care." Sansa kissed him again, with a passion. "Warriors and the smallfolk could see your worth but he is not out there with you. You already made yourself worthier than any other man…"

"Sansa…" Edric warned and the girl had laughed, kissing away his frown.

"I know, I know. You want to prove yourself an honourable man. But you have already proved that…" "I solemnly swear by the Seven, by the old gods of your father, by the Red God Stannis worships and many others; I will come back" He then kissed her brow and left, looking slightly uneasy as he strapped a dragonglass dagger on his belt.

I thought we agreed to no lies.

**Robard**

It was better now that Margaery was right by his bedside. Looking at her, he could care less about the throne. "My Prince" she breathed out right next to him. "My Princess" he breathed out. He then started to get dressed. "What are yo- Are you going somewhere?" she asked. "Just gonna take a walk. I'll be back soon" he said, giving a quick peck on her cheek.

He took a small stroll and began to realize in the midst of everything, he had completely forgotten about Armond. Just as he headed into his tent, he heard something.  
"Simply trust in the power of the Lord of Light. Your father is the Lord's chosen" it was the red woman. What is she doing here?  
"I do. but are you certain that no one knows?" Knows? Knows what?  
"They do not know because they do not seek favor from Rh'llor. They see what they want to see. You've done him a great service" she purred out.

She then left and he hid discreetly by the flaps of the tent. As he then entered the tent himself, he couldn't believe what he saw. It was Armond but his once shining black hair was now becoming brittle and threads of grey were on the side. "Brother" he breathed out. His face looked exhausted now. "Brother" he uttered out.

This was shocking to say the least. He looked like he aged into the body of a man in his thirties. "You look ... different" he said. "I'm alright. All in service to the Lord of Light" A service to this accursed demon. "What did you do?" he asked. "I did what was right. What I did was in service to Rh'llor. No act done in his service can ever be called a sin" he said. He's not answering my question. "What. Did. You. Do?" he asked.

"Do you know what is within us brother? Blood. And within our blood there is power." Armond said. Gods, this is annoying. "Stop speaking in riddles. You know I don't like riddles. I want the truth; what did you do?" Robard said, gritting his teeth now. Gods, he felt so much like his father now. "With the Lady Melisandre's help, I slayed the false king Renly" Armond said. He was smiling. But this smile wasn't like the smiles of past, filled with a love and lust of life. This was cold, cruel and unfeeling. It was a mockery.

"How? How could you have killed Renly? Neither you nor I were on the battlements" he said. "Like I am trying to tell you. There is much more in this War of Kings."

More to this war of kings? What on earth could his brother mean? And what on earth was he doing with that Red Woman?

**Cersei**

She kept hearing it. No matter how much she tried to block it out. No matter how much wine she drunk, she couldn't drown it out.

"You did this to me. You let him do this to me"  
It was her son; the voice of her black lion. He kept taunting her, why did he keep taunting her? He was her child.

"Queen you shall be"  
"Six-and-ten for him, and three for you"  
The voice of that stupid old bitch. I had four children, you old whore! I bore his child. I would never have gone into that tent if not for them. I would never have allowed Maggy the Frog to taste my morrows in a drop of blood. Piss on your prophecy, old woman.

His voice then came back.  
"Why did you let him do this to me?!"  
"Why don't you love me, mother?"

I do love you, my sweet. I do. She pleads  
"Then why did you let him?! Why did you let this happen?!"

It begins to echo louder. **_WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!_**

She then woke up in a haze, her breathing ragged and looking like a disheveled rat rather than a beautiful lioness. Piss on your prophecies, you old bitch. Piss on them all.

**Robb**

Gods, he loved her. Whenever he was busy in the council, all he could think about was the feel of her lips and the stream of chestnut curls on her head. But right now, he couldn't think about it. All he could think about were the dead bodies of the Lannister captives. Young Willem Frey. Along with Cleos Frey who was murdered in front of his own children Tion and Lyonel. Rickard Karstark's words kept ringing in his head: He means to give me a scolding before he forgives me. That's how he deals with treason, our King in the North or should I call you the King Who Lost the North, Your Grace?

"What's wrong?" Jeyne asked, stirring from her slumber. "Hmm? Nothing" Robb replied. "Come back to bed" "The Karstarks are gone. Almost half of our forces. Tywin Lannister knows what he needs to do to make us unravel. Nothing, but only to wait" Don't let him. "What am I to do, attack King's Landing? Nothing he'd like better, he'd crush us in a day" he replied. "Ride North then? Take it back from the Greyjoys, and wait out for winter" she suggested. "Winter could last for five years, Once my bannermen are home again, surrounded by warmth and their friends and family and safe, they will never have to ride south again. When I gathered the Northern lords together, we had a purpose. A mission. Now, we're like a band of bickering children"

"Then give them a new purpose" she said. "What would it be?" he asked. "I-I'm not sure, Robb. I grew up in court, not in war. I barely even know where Winterfell is" she said. He then gently took her hand and pointed to the map. Then something clicked. "I cant' force them to meet us in the field and I can't attack them where they're strongest. But I can attack them where they're not, and the Rock can't run away. I'm going to take their home away from them." he said. "Robb, I'm not sure you can. The Lannisters brag about their debts being repaid, the Rock itself is not a laughing matter. It has never fallen." she insists. "You may be right, and I'll need men to replace the Karstarks who left. And there's only one person in this kingdom with that kind of army who hasn't sided with the Lannisters. Walder Frey" he said.

Jeyne then seemed to shy away from him. "Jeyne? Jeyne, what's wrong?" "Are you ashamed of me?" she meekly asks. He then gives her a stern gaze. "No. I am ashamed in how we came to meet and what happened. But no, Jeyne Stark. I am not ashamed of you. I may have taken your castle but you have taken my heart. You, you are the one thing, the one good thing that has come out of this terrible thing" he said, pressing a fervent kiss on her lips. "I know that my mother was angry at me for what happened, but I don't care. You are the most greatest man I know. And hopefully, the greatest father" she said.

He couldn't believe his ears. "Are you angry with me?" she asked. Gods, she was so sweet. "Are you certain?" he asked. "Yes. My bodices have felt tighter and the maester confirmed it himself. We'll have a little prince or princess of the North" she said, happily and smiling. "Prince or Princess. Doesn't matter." he said cheekily. "I hope it's twin princes" she said, moaning under his touch now. "Two?" "Yes. Two boys. So that I can give you a little Eddard, and a Brandon"

"You could be carrying a whole litter and it wouldn't matter." he said, now pulling her into another kiss and stroked her back as he did. He kept stroking her back a few times. He started up from her neck, passed the narrow waist all the way down to Jeyne's lush, round arse. He cupped it in his palm with gentle pressure. He kept repeating the stroke, until her breathing came unsteady and she gasped every time his hand reached her arse. Jeyne let her hands run through his russet-coloured hair. Her eyes turned feverish and she started to search his chest and back.

He lifted her arms from his shoulders and turned her around, kissing the part of her neck he had just caressed, his voice was smoky but kind,  
"Gods, I love you."  
He waited for a second, for her to lean closer to him, to press her warm bottom against his pelvis. He then nibbled her shoulder gently, and made sure she was tucked well under the covers. He then gently loosened her small-clothes a bit so he could fondle her teats. He took his time cupping them, enjoying their fullness, feeling the tips sharpen between his fingers. He imagined how it would be to see them bare, bouncing on top of him. He moaned at the thought, kissing her ear. She tilted her head to find his lips with hers.

"Oh, Robb..."  
"You are very beautiful, Jeyne."  
He then lifted her skirts up, opened her small clothes, stroked the curve of her hip before letting himself feel her smooth fold. Her nub was swollen and slick, as he had anticipated. Robb's touch made her shiver and moan.  
"Please kiss me, Robb..."  
He tasted her lips and tongue, they tasted like wild berries.  
"Jeyne, you are so lovely..."

**Arya**

"You see anything?" Colen asked. "I would have told you if I saw something, stupid!" Arya snipes at the stupid goat. "Ned, what about you?" Jon asks. "Nothing out of the ordinary so ... wait, I see something!" Ned shouted. "Not so loud!" Jon whispered harshly to the young squire. "Sorry. But I see something!" "What did you see?" she asked. "A party. A large party of people behind a caravan. Could be filled with weapons and food." Ned said. "Wait a minute, I don't think it's filled with weapons and food. I think there are ... people. Prisoners, I think. I can see the armor on them. Their sigils embroidered on 'em" he said.

"Northmen maybe? Can you see what the sigils are?" Jon asked. "It's hard to make out. We should get closer" Ned insisted. "Are you barking mad?" Lyman asked. "Let's go!" she said. "Fuck" Lyman whispered. "Can you see them now?" Jon asked. "I see ... a white dot or something on a field of black. Something like a-a merman. And a pink man on some kind of cross" Ned said. A white dot, a merman and a pink man on a cross.

"Jon! They are Northmen. The sigils of House Karstark, House Manderly and House Bolton. Domeric and some others are probably there! We have to go free them!" she said. "You're right. Let's go!" Jon said, quickly running off to them. "Shouldn't we plan something first?!" Lyman whined. "Got one." Ned said, preparing to notch an arrow. He then let it loose and broke the lock on the caravan. "Anguy's lessons finally paid off, eh?" Colen said.

Unfortunately, the party was immediately startled by the sound, revealing their positions. "Well, well. What have we here, lads? A couple o' knights and a fair lady? Nice group, but the real question is what you're doing here? Bit dangerous for you high folks, ain't it?" the man said. Unfortunately, she recognized that man. Dunsen. One of the Mountain's men.

"Might be more dangerous for you" Colen said. Dunsen and his men chuckled. All of them had trouble with them. Colen had easily struck down two people and began to cut down more as he got a firm grasp on a discarded greatsword. Jon had cut down several of them already. Lyman was more hesitant and Edrick parried and found the right time for a strike. Three of them had no trouble parrying Edrick's cuts and then one of them managed to inflict a wound that opened up his leather doublet and blood streamed out in a thick stripe down his shirt. Ned emitted a scream, and swung his sword around in anger, hitting one guy in the arm and another in the leg. Suddenly Dunsen jumped forward and held his knife at Lyman's throat. A large chained hound was standing a little further watching the scene and here and there barking at the show.

Meanwhile Arya was surrounded as well and Edrick crunched down and held his arm around his shoulder. Arya noticed Edrick had collapsed and tilted his head backwards. She rushed out and kneeled down with him. His queer pale violet eyes had turned pale white and there was no emotion on his face. "No, Edrick!" she screamed. The hound growled viciously, somehow free of it's chains and charged at the Dunsen's calves. A groan of pain pierced through the air and finally what was left of the band of brutes got scared and scattered back into the woods. Arya was still bowed over Edrick, holding him up in a desperate embrace. She heard a shallow cough and saw Edrick's irises returned to him, but she didn't let go of him for a while.

"Jon?" she heard a soft voice said. It was Domeric Bolton and right beside him were men she easily recognized: Harrion Karstark and Wendel Manderly. "Dom. Good to see ya" Jon said, pulling Dom into a tight embrace. He looked quite gaunt.

Suddenly, she heard a shallow cough and saw Edrick's irises returned to him, but she didn't let go of him for a while. "I thought you were dead" she murmured. "Can't get rid of me that easy" he grinned. "His wound. You need to take care of it before it festers." Domeric said. "There are some supplies in the caravan. It's gonna get dark soon. We should make camp here" Harrion said.

She and Jon then took him inside the caravan. Domeric then got out some bandages and a phial filled with milk of the poppy. Jon got out a wineskin and poured it over his wound and wrapped the bandages over his upper arm. Edric grunted in pain, and pressured the bandages. Arya helped him strap his shield on his back and threw his arm around her shoulder for support.

Arya stayed in the caravan watching over Edrick and tending to his wound. Arya watched him and wondered if fate lived in this world, and if it had brought them together. Did it all have a purpose? Had their lives been connected from the beginning or had it decided to let them intertwine along the way? Suddenly, he began to stir awake. "Are you alright?" she asked. "Never better. Hurts a bit, but I'll live. I will live, right?" he jested. Stupid.

"You'll be fine" she said. "Edrick, I wanted to ask you. About those bandits attacked." He turned his head and looked at her with his dark purple eyes that entranced Arya for a second before she snapped out of it. "Yes?" he said. "There was a hound. And it just attacked when you passed out… Was it you ... in the dog? Are you a skinwalker?" She recalled how Old Nan used to tell her stories about skinwalkers in the North all the time, _but those were just stories_, she thought. Up until now she had never even contemplated the possibility of it, but after her dreams about Nymeria and what happened with the bandits, she had begun to think that there could be truth in the stories.

"I'm sorry, Arya. I don't know. All I remember was burning white flash. I don't remember anything of what happened next until I woke up in your arms, so I highly doubt it could have been me in there. And in all honesty, I'm not sure about the existence of such powers for that matter. Don't make it seem more than it is." Silence surrounded them while they shared a look. Arya nodded in understanding and inhaled high and then sighed deep.

"How is your shoulder?" she finally asked him. "Feels good, no problem at all," he now answered with a grimace. It was a poorly executed lie, but he said it anyway."Let me take a look at it," Arya suggested. "You're obviously in pain." "It's fine, really"

Without warning, Arya moved closer, buttoned down his shirt and slipped it off his shoulder. The bandage had come loose and the wound had been bleeding again. Arya removed it with great care and cleaned the wound with some water. For a moment she was strenuously focused on taking care of his injury, but as she bound a new compress around his shoulder, her hands moved over his fairly muscular body in an unintended stroke that sent a shiver up her spine. Cold drops of sweat rolled down her back and made her tingle at the most accidental touch of his hands. His warm, worn hands. They made her want to linger in his caress. They latched themselves around her neck and pulled Arya closer, until she surrendered. Their lips collided with a hallow softness, and amidst the dizziness and elation, clinging unto him like a lifeline, something erupted and changed inside of her, not to be reversed. She gave in to the feeling, utterly and completely, for all she desired was to feel his breath come and go with hers.

**Daenerys**

She had done it. Astapor had been brought down with the might of Drogon. Yunkai had fallen to her as well. And now Mereen. All three slave cities are now under her control, and under her rule there will be no slaves nor slave masters. Only the freed.

"Your Grace." Gendry and Barristan said as they approached her, bowing. "Rise, good Sers." "We have recieved a message from a sellsword company called the Windblown. The captain would like to seek an audience with you." Gendry said. The Windblown? Over the years, she had heard of many sellsword companies due to Viserys trying to sway them. The Golden Company, the Stormcrows, the Second Sons who were now under her command. She had never heard of them before. Just who were they?

"Send him in" she said. Gendry then made a motion with his hand and several people approached. One of the men was rather short and stocky with seriousness plastered across his plain face. One was tall and lean and comely, with blue-green eyes and sandy hair with a swordsman's grace. One was about six-and-a-half-feet tall, broad of shoulder, huge of belly, with legs like tree trunks, hands the size of hams, and no neck. The last person was the Tattered Prince himself who had his face covered with a large tattered rag cloth. "My queen" he said, giving her a stern bow. "My prince" she said. He then placed his hand to the rag which covered his face. As he then pulled it off, she took a firm notice of his facial features. Sad-eyed much like the Old Ser, his face stern and harsh from having faced in many battles. His eyes were captivating though. Lilac, which made them look like blossoming flowers as he moved them. His hair was a resplendent silver-gold which was kept neat and short but was quite thick and curly. The Tattered Prince himself seemed to be withdrawn.

He then turned to Ser Barristan. "Barristan the Bold. It's good to see you, old friend" the Tattered Prince said, with a smile on his face,

**Ah, yes. Renly's death may not have been a simple act of stupidity and having been slain. There's a little bit of a tearful separation between Edric and Sansa. Meanwhile, things between Edrick and Arya seem to be heating up. Robb and Jeyne are having a kid, yay? Nay? Read on to find out what will happen to them. And who's this person Dany has met?**


	22. Chapter 22

**Daenerys**

She continued to stare at him. Taking note of his facial features once more. Sad-eyed much like the Old Ser, a stern and harsh face from having faced in many battles. Those captivating lilac eyes, which made them look like blossoming flowers as he moved them. His hair was a resplendent silver-gold which was kept neat and short but was quite thick and curly.

"Prince Daeron? You were thought to be dead alongside Rhaegar in the Battle of the Trident!" Ser Barristan said. Prince Daeron? No, that's not possible. Her brother Rhaegar, was supposedly the Last Dragon along with Viserys. This man could not possibly be her brother. It's not possible.

"Daenerys? You look much like our mother" he said, a small smile on his face. "You could not possibly be my brother. My eldest brother died in battle and I ... I ..." Daenerys began to choke. "It's alright. You're not alone. Frog, Greenguts, Dornish Gerold. Leave" Daeron commanded.

"Ser Barristan. Is this true? Is the man who stands before me, is he truly my brother?" Daenerys asked, her voice trembling and lips quivering. "Its been ages since I saw him last, but it is very much him. You always favored the Warrior, and now you look like one" Ser Barristan said chuckling. Gendry began to look a bit frightened.

"Daenerys. Sweet Daenerys. I will tell you everything. Everything that has happened to us. But there are things which you will not be able to understand" Daeron said. "Tell me" she commanded. "As you wish. Everything began during that blasted tourney ..."

* * *

**Daeron**

"He's been getting more and more within himself" Daeron said, as he and Rhaegar walked about in the Red Keep. "Yes, he is" Rhaegar said, solemnly as ever. "You know what must be done, brother" Daeron said, giving his brother a rather stern look.

"It's still treason" Rhaegar said. "And letting him to continue sitting on the Iron Throne and doing nothing? What is the bigger treason here?" Daeron said. "You know I am right. Why else would every lord come to the tourney? Oswell already made the preparations with Old Lord Whent" Daeron said. "You'll be coming as well?" Rhaegar asks. "Of course. My brother will make all the maidens weep with his songs as sweet as honey and lemoncakes, and then swoon before Daeron the Dashing!" Daeron said mockingly, elevating his voice to sound enough like a girl.

Rhaegar and him began to laugh heartily. "We might need more than this though. We need to protect the others: Aemon, Aemma, Shaena, Jaehaerys and Viserys" Rhaegar implores. "Of course. Father is still raving that mother deliberately had Aemma and Shaena so late in life that she deliberately denied you a proper Valyrian bride." Daeron said. "And he made Lord Steffon seek out a bride for me in vain. He was a good man" Rhaegar said rather grimly.

"I think I know just how to protect them. And gather more support from the other lords" Daeron said. "How?" "Foster them into the Great Houses" Daeron suggests. But Rheagar's face tells him otherwise. "Is it sinful to be more worried for Jaehaerys and Viserys than Aemon?" he said, sounding stupid as he did. "I worry about them as well. Jaehaerys is only eight, and Viserys is six. Not to mention that he keeps naming Jaehaerys a bastard because of that streak in his hair. Lots of Targaryen's are born with them." Daeron said. "Of course. But this feels strange though" Rhaegar said uneasily.

"Rhaegar. They're doing all of this for you. Stark to Tully, Stark to Baratheon, Targaryen to Martell. Perhaps with some prodding from Tywin, I wed his daughter and we'd have the Westerlands backing us. We can send Aemon to foster properly with the Martells, Jaehaerys with the Tullys, and Viserys with the Baratheons" Daeron said.

"I'm still unsure about this, Daeron" "Trust me. Trust the lords who believe in you. No more will Aerys II continue his reign. I know you think he's there, and part of me wishes that as well. But we need to face the reality of it and not dwell on past notions and dreams, Rheagar. Our father is gone. A monster has taken his place"

* * *

The tourney was quite grand and festive. Lord Walter Whent spared no expense. What had taken him by surprise was that mystery knight. He was undoubtedly skilled. Unfortunately, their father did not see that. "Bring me that knight, or I will burn this place to the ground," he hissed. "Now!"

Rhaegar blinked, his heart rate spiking. He nodded, bowing, motioning for Arthur and himself to follow him. They retreated from the stands, quickly approaching the stables. The stableboy, upon seeing them, immediately brought out their horses.

"Have you seen a knight?" Daeron asked the boy, suddenly feeling stupid. "On a white horse, in mismatched armor," he clarified.

The boy, whose face had been crumpled in confusion, beamed in recognition. "He was riding toward the godswood, Your Highness."

Rhaegar, Daeron and Arthur jumped atop their horses, flying hard toward Harrenhal's godswood. It was a largely unused placed, as the Seven were worshiped in the South, but Rhaegar was unsurprised, remembering the joyful face of the weirwood painted upon the knight's shield.

They rode quickly through the trees, eyes keen on their surroundings for a flash of silver or a blur of white horse. They rode hard for nearly twenty minutes, their search fruitless, and stopped at Harrenhal's heart tree. Its ghastly face was a sneering echo of Rhaegar's father, eyes rimmed in red just the same.

Rhaegar dismounted, Ser Arthur and Daeron following his example. Rhaegar approached the heart tree, laying his hand flat upon its face.

Rhaegar and his brother looked around wildly, searching for the culprit, when a white horse burst into view. Atop it was a knight, bearing the weight of mismatched, ill-fitting armor.

Suddenly, the Knight of the Laughing Tree jumped down from his still-galloping horse clumsily - a stark contrast to the showing of his superior riding skills earlier - and fell to his hands and knees before the heart tree.

The knight violently ripped off his helm, a shower of dark hair falling over his shoulders as he threw the helm a distance away. It took one long moment that he saw that the knight was no small man. Or a man at all.

It was Lady Lyanna of House Stark, the very one Rhaegar had seen riding into Harrenhal's Keep the afternoon before the tourney, with her pale thighs straddling a magnificent black destrier.

"So," Daeron intoned, watching her try to pull her height taller, "you are the avenging mystery knight."

Her jaw worked, grey eyes swirling with apprehension and the kind of fear akin to an animal caught in a trap. She swallowed audibly, her throat contracting, but she made no move to reply, no move to dignify his statement.

"My father - the king - has found himself quite wary of this Knight of the Laughing Tree." Rhaegar threw a pointed look to her weirwood shield. "He's ordered us to find this knight, and bring him to await the king's justice."

At that, Lyanna's eyes finally widened. So quickly Rhaegar had no time to react, she bent over and unsheathed a glinting sword from her boot. Arm outstretched, she held it protectively in front of her, its blade staring Rhaegar in the face.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she growled, eyes intense, yet glazed.

"My lady, you may put your sword down," Daeron said.

Her mouth twisted sardonically. "You think me so stupid? If I put this sword down, I'm as good as dead."

He tilted his head, curious. "How so?"

She snorted, wholly unladylike and wholly amused. "I've heard what your father does to those he deems traitor," she spat. Rhaegar and his brother stilled. "You think the entire realm doesn't know how mad the king is? You thought it was a secret? If so, you're both dumber than you look."

Rhaegar narrowed his eyes, her words ringing true. His elder brother had assumed the realm was still blind to his father's increasingly disturbed nature, with only the Kingsguard and Court privy to such knowledge. He'd figured that he had more than enough time to remove him as king before the kingdoms learned about Aerys' fire obsession and his never-ending cruel streak.

Sensing his hesitation, Lyanna continued. "You cannot fool me, Prince. Your father is a madman, and you are his spawn!"

Rhaegar sniffed once, meeting her eyes. "I can assure you, I am not my father," he declared, overcome with the inexplicable need to distance himself from any talk of the Mad King.

"Nor am I"

She laughed, short and horrible like the crack of a whip against bare skin. "All dragons are the same," she hissed. "You're just prettier to look at."

He knew better than to be flattered by the words coated with venom. Her entire form was vibrating in passionate anger, face flushed with the exertion of her declarations. At the corner of her mouth, a thin stream of blood was dripping down her pale skin, a startling mirror image to the heart tree at her back, both faces contorted in a hateful sneer. Daeron studied her, realizing with a start just how lovely she was, even under the sheen of sweat and blood and visage of skepticism. She was a wolf aflame, a dark reincarnation of Queen Visenya herself, clad in junky armor and wielding a castle-forged sword.

"Despite what you may think," he maintained, "I am not my father. And I do not intend to take you to him."

Her eyes slitted suspiciously. "Why should I believe that?" She challenged him.

"You don't have to believe me," he conceded eventually. "Either way, I will not take you to him. I don't particularly relish in feeding my father's...nature."

Her lips parted, part in relief, part in aiding her heavy breathing. "You'll let me go then?" She spared the Kingsguards at his back, Arthur Dayne, a quick glance. "Truly?"

Daeron then nodded. "On our honor as Targaryens, we swear you can go." She scoffed, showing just how much those words meant to her. "However, my lady, I think you'll find it hard to venture back to the castle on your own. Unless, you intend to walk the entire way..."

"You may ride back with us, my lady, and I swear no harm will come to you." he replied

Lyanna Stark continued to glare at them. But ultimately, she gave them a shaky nod. Daeron then noticed the shield that she used. Her shield still lay in the grass, its face laughing to the sky. She picked it up, running a finger over its front, sighing.

"I'll take that to my father." He reached for it.

Her eyes flashed up in alarm, and she hugged the shield tighter to her chest. "Why?"

"It will serve as evidence that I searched for the mystery knight." He gently pried it from her hold. "I'll tell him I found no other trace." He walked over to his horse and tied the shield to its hip.

She drifted over, eyes switching from Rhaegar to Daeron to Arthur. "Who will I ride with?" Her voice was almost void of emotion, save for the tiny sliver of indignation at having to share a horse.

"With me, my lady," Rhaegar said, stepping back to assist her.

"Lyanna," she corrected him immediately, weary and tired.

"Rhaegar, my lady"

"Daeron"

* * *

Their father continued to rave his mad rants. Going as far as to offer anybody who could find the "Knight of the Laughing Tree" a lordship and lands, deeming the knight a traitor to the realm. And almost immediately, many readily agreed to it. Which included the eager Richard Lonmouth and his whoremongering cousin Robert Baratheon. "They seemed to be content with this announcement" Daeron mentioned to his brother. "A lot of these attendants are simply knights who want glory. And now Father has offered them that opportunity." Rhaegar noted.

"I think it's time to grace these fine people with one of your infamous songs, dear brother!" Daeron jested. "I'm not sure ..." Rhaegar said with uncertainty. "Oh, please! Oh, please, Bard Prince! Sing to me the most prettiest and loveliest songs of all of Westeros!" Daeron said, raising his voice to sound like a woman's.

His brother then came up to face the crowd of drunken lords, ladies and knights. His harp at the ready, he began to gently strum it and and begun to sing beautifully as he always did. By the end of the song; Lady Lyanna pouring a wineskin over her brother's head. "THE BARD PRINCE!" Daeron cried out.

He continued to observe the many people from his table. It seemed that Old Lord Whent enjoyed his own tourney but more for the sake of throwing one. He then took note of Lyanna again. What was it about this woman that seemed to pull on his heartstrings? It's not like she would want him. Daeron the Dashing was more a jest, as everyone knows that Rhaegar was clearly more handsome than he could ever be. "My lady, would you do me the honour in dancing with me?" he said as courteous as he could muster. I probably sound like a kitchen mouse, he thought. "I'd be honored" she said plainly.

She dutifully molded her fingers against his shoulder, jamming the tips hard into his leather doublet. But where she was harsh, Daeron was soft, wrapping his arm gently around her hurt ribs so that she was pulled close against his chest.

They began to dance, and he wilted his torso over hers so that he could murmur in her ear.

"Does anyone else know that you're the mystery knight?" He asked, pulling back just enough so that he could see her reaction.

"My little brother," she answered quietly. "And Howland Reed."

"And they won't let it slip?"

She shook her head. "They're loyal to me."

Daeron leaned back into her, his chin swiping across her hair. "May I ask why Robert Baratheon is glaring at us? Well," he amended, "at me, more specifically."

Lyanna stilled momentarily, tucking her head against his collarbone. "He's probably jealous. My lord father plans to marry us."

Daeron's brows rose. "You are betrothed?"

"Yes," she replied immediately. "My father offered my hand to Lord Robert though, and he will accompany us back to Winterfell to accept."

"I'm very sorry to hear that my lady" he said. She suddenly gave him a cold stare. "Gossip is one of the primary things shared in courts. Particularly, Robert's known love for drinking, feasting and whoring" he said.

"It doesn't matter. By the end of this blasted tournament, I will be betrothed to him and be a Lady of Storm's End to bear his many sons and daughters. That's not me" she scowled. "I'm sorry, my prince. I shouldn't have said that. He is your cousin after all"

She was becoming more intriguing by the minute. "I have no great love of him. What is it you would want to do? Or be?" he asked.

"I'd want to be a warrior, like the sister-queens of Aegon the Conqueror. Or like that of Queen Nymeria. Or simply ride from Dorne to the Wall" she said.

"That sounds like an interesting thought. Riding all the way from the Wall to Dorne, or mayhaps from Dorne to the Wall? Either way it does sound rather exciting. Just thinking of that adventure is grand" he said. And then she let out a small giggle. It was one of the most beautiful sounds he had heard.

"My lady, I must ask. Why did you do it?" He asked. "Compete against those knights only to demand they teach their squires honor?"

She sniffed, a nerve having been touched. "I found the three squires beating up a friend of mine, my father's bannerman, Howland Reed. He was defenseless and small and the fight was outmatched. Howland can't ride a horse, nor joust, so I defended his honor for him."

She was graceful, vibrant, and so full of fire. She was brave and bold and larger than life. A slender young girl playing at mystery knight, bold as she challenged three experienced knights, all to defend her victimized friend's honor. Lyanna Stark was a rare breed, the kind of girl that never came around but for once in a lifetime.

"So, after riding from Dorne to the Wall or the Wall to Dorne, what might you do?" he said.

"Are you jesting, my prince?" she asked cheekily.

"I am simply inquiring as to what a wolf of the great north would like to be " Daeron said, with a smile curling on his lips.

"I'd like to visit all the Seven Kingdoms. Pick the freshest fruit from Highgarden and eat them until my belly would ache. Learn to fight with a Dornish spear and lance. I'd ride throughout all the Seven Kingdoms" Lyanna said. "And what about you? What would you do, my prince?"

"I'm not sure actually. I often thought of living hedge knight's life like my grandfather, King Aegon the Unworthy. Or mayhaps a sellsword. I'd be the Sellsword Prince. Then my brother, the Bard Prince will have to sing a song about me!" He jested, earning another giggle from her. He then noticed that they were the only ones left; just how long have they been dancing for?

"I should probably go back to my tent now. My family must be worried about me" Lyanna said. "Let me escort you then. It's only fair, I did keep you away from them. It's best that I return you to them" he said. ""Return me to them?" Am I a goat, waiting to be sold?" she retorted. "Uh, no, no, my lady. What I meant wa ..."  
"A jest, my prince." she said, smiling and giggling that she managed to embarrass him. Suddenly, he was filled with courage and kissed her right on the lips. This is wrong, she's betrothed, he said to himself. Much to his own surprise, she kissed him back, but on the cheek.

"Good night, my lady" he said.

"Good night, my prince"

* * *

Today was the final day of the jousts. Perhaps he would crown Lady Lyanna as his Queen of Love and Beauty. Would she accept it? But now, Ser Barristan the Bold stands in his way. He then charged right at him, holding the lance straight at him but narrowly missed. They then rose up their lances again and tried to aim it at his shield to break it but Barristan already had that plan in mind, and knocked him off of his horse as well.

"Are you alright, my prince?" Barristan asked, as he dismounted, holding out his hand. "Never better"  
Soon after his own loss, Rhaegar had defeated Ser Barristan and was promptly given the crown of blue winter roses. And he then passed sweet Elia Martell and crowned Lyanna Stark.

* * *

The capital was actually quite quiet today. Quite unusual. Until he heard a loud roar that was almost guttural. "Rhaegar! Come out and die!"

As he descends down, he realizes its none other than than the heir to Winterfell, Brandon Stark. Before he can say or do anything, he nearly attacks him with a mailed fist. Brandon and his companions are immediately taken by the gold cloaks for threatening Rhaegar's life and nearly striking him. There has been so sign of Rhaegar since Harrenhal; there is no one here for Brandon to duel, no one but his father Aerys, and that thought is terrifying.

Within a matter of days, Lord Rickard Stark came to the Keep and pleaded for the safe return of his son and daughter. Quite strange, why would the Lord and heir to Winterfell believe that Rhaegar took Lyanna? He is unable to hear everything but a small bit of their conversation.

"Please, Your Grace, I beg of you, all I ask is to have Lyanna back. Think of your children; your son. Think if Viserys is taken. I ask as a father to a father"

That didn't bode well with the Mad King and immediately perceived it as a threat and charged to try him with Brandon's crimes as well: treason and attempted regicide. Then Lord Rickard called for a trial by combat.

He had never felt more frightened of his father in his whole life until that moment. As they began to place a large leather strap over Brandon Stark's head and raise Rickard above the ground. All he can hear and see at that point is his father mentioning how fire is always will be the dragon's champion.

"Daeron, what's going on?" Aemon said, coming close to. "Aemon, don't look!" he nearly shouted, covering the twelve-year old's eyes from what was about to happen. But it was for naught. Lord Rickard's screams began to echo off the walls and Brandon's choking and gasping as well.

Sometime after, he received word from his brother who had informed him that he had taken up residence in a tower close to the Dornish Red Mountains. As he found himself near, he heard shouting. By the time he entered the tower, he began to hear it clearly.

"You... you liar! You promised everything would be fine! You said nothing would happen, that we would all be fine! You liar! You lia ..." It was Lyanna screaming and now sobbing freely as her body continued to shake with such fury and despair, as his brother Rhaegar held his cheek.

Within weeks, he had not spoken a word to his brother. "I need your help brother. Please, will you stand by my side?" Rheagar said. "You know I will" Daeron said. Before more could be said, he heard another loud roar.  
_**"RHAEGAR! DIE YOU FUCKING DRAGON!"**_

Daeron immediately charged at Robert Baratheon to his brother's defense. He then felt the immense weight of his warhammer coming down at his chest, his brother's screams, and the rivers drowning out his pain.

* * *

**Daenerys**

"By the gods." Daenerys said. "Just how did you survive, my prince?" Barristan asked. "I don' really know myself. When I woke up, I was in a very serene place. By then I heard of Rhaegar's death, my father's, Aegon and Rhaenys. There was nothing for me to return to. When I got my strength back, I made my way to Saltpans disguised as a bard. I realized I'd need to train my skills and find away to take back the Iron Throne. I joined the Maiden's Men, the Gallant Men, the Iron Shields, even the Second Sons. I fought and traveled to Lys, Tyrosh, Myr. Eventually, the Windblown found me and made me their leader within less than a year." Daeron explained.

"So, I did have brothers. And sisters. Viserys sai - " "Viserys sounds like the true spawn of our father" Daeron said. Was everything Viserys ever told her a lie? "I had heard that the princes and princesses were the first ones to be killed. Shortly before Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys" Ser Barristan said. "I actually came across Aemon during my time in Lys" Daeron said. "Little Aemon?" Barristan said perplexed. She had another brother who was very much alive? She wasn't alone then? "He seemed out of it. When I asked him about the others, he raved on about seahorses, crabs and stars and the sun. Madness."

"He could have been talking about House Velaryon and some other houses" Gendry chimed in. "I'm sorry, we got to meet this way, my king. I am ..." Gendry tried to say but was far to nervous to properly introduce himself. "You're Robert Baratheon's boy, aren't you?" Daeron said calmly. "Yes, I am. Gendry. Gendry Baratheon" He said stiffly, "You look so much like him. But you don't seem to share his rage." Daeron noted.

"Daeron" she utters out his name as she had been familiar with him all of his life. "I would like to know more. About my family. Our family" She then saw his hardened face give her a smile. "I'd be delighted to"

**Daeron**

As he made his way to his tent and lay his head on the featherbed, he found himself remembering that day. The day he almost died.

* * *

"Daeron, please understand" Rhaegar cried out but he refused to say anything. "Understand what? I understand you have doomed the realm!" Daeron cried out. "Daeron - " "You were to save the realm! You were to be the most greatest king after the Old King! Look what you have done!" He said, pointing out to several burning villages in the riverlands.

"I want to know why. Why? Why did you do this?!" Daeron said. "I know that my children have a greater part to play. That was why I wed Lyanna. She will grant me the third child needed. The third head of the dragon" Rhaegar said.

"You're mad"  
"Daeron ..."  
"You're mad as our father! You're no different! Trading away madness for prophecies!" Daeron said. "Daeron, you don't understa - " "YOU TOOK HER AWAY! YOU TOOK HER AWAY FROM ME!" He cried out. Daeron then realized what he cried out as his brother gave him a queer look. "You love her" he muttered softly. "Yes. I love her. I love her more than you, and more than Robert Baratheon. This. Is this what you think she deserves?! DO YOU?!" Daeron shouted. "I would have gladly gave up my own claim to the throne for her. Because I love her more than you ever could have"

"I need your help brother. Please, will you stand by my side?" Rhaegar said. "I will. You know I will" Daeron said. "Thank yo -" "But I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for Lyanna and the child she carries. For her" Suddenly, he heard a loud roar heading toward them  
_**"RHAEGAR! DIE YOU FUCKING DRAGON!"**_

Daeron immediately charged at Robert Baratheon to his brother's defense. He then felt the immense weight of his warhammer coming down at his chest, his brother's screams, and the rivers drowning out his pain. He then found himself awake in a quiet and seemingly desolate place.

"Where ... Where am I?" he groaned out, immediately clutching his chest. He was then approached by a tall man, with a large, square head, shrewd eyes, a veined, red nose, and a heavy jaw. "Lie back down. You're not well" the man said. "Wh-What's happened? What's happened?" he said. "What do you mean?" the man said. "Th-The fight. Wh-What's happened?" he asked. The man looked grim now. "I hear little things about what happened." "Tell me" he said weakly.

"Robert Baratheon had won the Battle of the Trident and has been declared king. The Targaryen family nearly wiped out." the man said. "What happened to them?" he said, fearing the answer. The man looked grim. "The Mad King had been slain by his own Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister. There is tale that Princess Elia had been raped and murdered by The Mountain that Rides. But before that happened, he had smashed Prince Aegon's head upon the wall, and Amory Lorch stabbed Princess Rhaenys to death. The soldiers killed the other remaining Targaryens. Princes Aemon and Jaehaerys gutted and Princess Aemma and Shaena split in two. All that remains of House Targaryen are Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys" the man said.

No, no. He told Elia to get her children and his brothers and sisters out of harm's way if possible. No, they can't be gone. "What of the queen?" he nervously asked. "Dead as well. Died giving birth to the new princess" the man said grimly. No. No, they couldn't all be gone! They couldn't be.

He suddenly got up and found himself walking to a nearby tree. And then he screamed, screaming as loud as he could muster. There's no point. There's no one to hear my pain, my sorrow, my agony.

By the time he properly recovered, he dirtied up his hair and left for Saltpans. He then got passage on a boat to Lys. He'd need to be stronger and harder than before.

* * *

She can never know.

**Ashara**

She still remembered when she had him. She was sad that Ned could never claim him but perhaps it was best. He was hers; a perfect combination of Dayne and Stark. His hair a neat sandy brown hair which often appeared to shine with the same luster as Arthur's once had. The only thing he had of hers was her eyes; daunting violet eyes. She could still remember how it all began.

* * *

The tourney was a rather grand event. Already, many people asking her to dance which she graciously accepted. Barristan the Bold, her brother Arthur and even sour Jon Connington. Ultimately, someone catches her eye.

"Wow," her friend, Ashara Dayne, blurted next to her. "Look at him."

"The prince?" Elia furrowed her brows. "Your brother is his Kingsguard. Haven't you seen him before?"

Ashara rolled her eyes. "Not Prince Rhaegar. Him!" And then she pointed a thin finger a few spaces down from Rhaegar, where a tall, pale man stood, bulked in silver armor whose front was embossed with a snarling direwolf.

"That's Brandon Stark," her brother, Oberyn, cut in. "And he's already promised to another. Her." He jerked his head up, looking to where two girls sat several rows above them. "The prettier one," he clarified.

The girl was pretty, with spiraling hair the color of a sunset, pale skin, and mouth like a rose. But she didn't say that aloud, with her lovesick friend sulking beside her.

"Who is she?" Ashara wondered, dark purple eyes narrowing.

"Catelyn Tully," Oberyn replied, amused.

Elia gave her friend a sad smile. Lady Catelyn Tully was one of the prettiest girls she'd ever seen, and to make matters worse, she was the daughter of a Great House, probably stocked with a dowry so fine even the prince would profit from an alliance.

Ashara rolled her eyes again, though this time the disappointment was palpable, and turned back in her seat to admire Brandon Stark. He was a handsome man, admittedly, with shaggy brown hair and a face that was slanted with mischief. Then again, it was always surprising to any Southerner to see something pretty come out of the harsh North. Suddenly, he approached her.

"Lord Stark."

"Lady Ashara." His gaze is deliciously impolite, and Ashara has to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. "You look beautiful this evening."

"Thank you, my lord."

Ashara knows he expected her to pay him a compliment as well, and his brow slightly furrows when she doesn't. "I have to come to make a request of you."

"A request? What type of request?"

"I've come to ask a dance of you."

Pride blooms brightly in her chest. "A dance?"

Brandon smirks as he answers, "I am not making the request for myself." As confusion fills her, the excitement in her chest deflating, Brandon gestures to a solemn-faced man seated at the trestle table occupied by northmen. "My brother Ned would love to partner you."

"Your brother? If he wants to dance with me, why did he send you?"

Stepping closer, dropping his voice, Brandon explains, "He's shy, but he's a good man who has not stopped looking at you since we've arrived." When Ashara says nothing, he wheedles, "Come on, Ashara. Give my brother a little confidence by saying yes. You've done far worse with men who weren't so noble."

She nearly recoils from the words, stung and embarrassed. It is not as if she does not know her reputation; men talk, and even men she has never even met have claimed to have spent time in her bed. But there is a difference between having Arthur gently tease her about her affairs and Brandon Stark so callously referencing them, speaking to her as if they are friends, as if he has not just revealed he thinks her no better than a woman in a brothel.

"Have I?" she drawls, her voice as cold as the ice which forms the Wall, and Brandon seems to recognize he has erred, but Ashara does not want his apologies.

She does not want anything from Brandon Stark, not now.

"Lady Ashara - "

"Tell your brother I would be honored to dance with him." Eying Brandon with disdain, she dismisses him with a flick of her hand. "You may go now."

Anger flares hot in Brandon's eyes, but he says nothing, returning to the trestle table and saying something into the ear of his brother. She sees the younger Stark's back stiffen, and, when he turns to say something to Brandon, Ashara can read the hint of panic on the young man's face. Under different circumstances, it would have made her laugh, but she can only think of what Brandon might have told him of her, what Ned Stark is expecting from their dance.

Ned Stark is not as tall as his brother, barely standing a head taller than she; he keeps his hair longer than men in King's Landing, messily tied back to keep it off of his face, which is half-obscured by a beard. Unlike Brandon, whose clothing is obviously expensive, Ned's is simple and unadorned with any marks of House Stark. Whereas Brandon was always smiling, Ned is stoic, inclining his head as he greets, "Lady Ashara, I am Eddard Stark. I thank you for the honor of a dance."

His words are so stiff and formal, Ashara is almost convinced this is some sort of trick.

She stood before him, a gentle smile on her face. Brandon stood a bit behind her, grinning like a child who had just stolen treats he was forbidden. "Your brother said that you wanted to dance with me, but were too shy to ask. I would love to dance with you, if you want."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "My lady, it would be an honor to dance with you."

He holds her awkwardly, no true grace in his movements, and, at first, he does not look at her, does not speak. It is the silence more than anything which prompts her to say, "Is it true you ward at the Eyrie?" Ashara had asked, bringing his attention back to her haunting violet eyes. Her purple gown brought out the color even more than her dark hair. "I've heard it a wondrous castle, though dangerous to ascend."

"It is both my lady. I've made the climb up and down several times and I'm not sure which I fear more."

Ashara had laughed to hear him say so, the Dornish lady kindly ignoring how he trampled her feet. She merely kept him moving as if nothing happened.

"How honest of you. That's a rare thing to find in young men. Most would have me believe them fearless."

"The Starks follow the old ways." He'd felt heartened to point that out. "Honor comes as much from truth as it does bravery and strength, we hold all as dearly as we do our furs when winter comes."

"The blood of the First Men flows through House Dayne as well." Ashara had smiled and placed a hand to her chest. "Yet in Dorne the truth shifts as quickly as the sands. I can't say why, but I trust what you say about your family, I can't see one as earnest as you lying."

"Not even if my life depended on it."

He had enjoyed his dance with Ashara, for she told him much of Dorne and her home, Starfall. The castle was located on an island, and Ashara swore the view from one tower, the Palestone Sword she'd named it, was so beautiful that it had made some weep.

"When the moonlight hits the waters you almost want to throw yourself into it, for surely nothing so lovely could let you come to harm."

"Your brother told me your name is Ned, but you call yourself Eddard. Which do you prefer?"

For a moment, he looks at a loss, almost as if he is trying to remember the Common Tongue, before finally answering. "You may call me whatever you like, Lady Ashara."

"Well, Ned, if we are to be friends, I insist you call me only by my name." There is a flicker of something across his features, a trace of disapproval quickly stifled, and it is so different from Brandon, she challenges, "Have I offended you, Ned? Am I too brazen for your liking?"

"I have heard women from Dorne speak freer than other women."

"And I have heard men from the North prefer a woman not to speak at all," she counters.

There is a hint of anger in his eyes and tone as he retorts, "We are not savages, my lady."

"Nor are we, my lord."

His face folds in apology before admitting, "I do not know much of Dorne. I was born at Winterfell and fostered at the Eyrie. This is the farthest south I have ever traveled."

"I was born at Starfall and fostered at Sunspear, though, I do admit, I have no want to travel above the Neck."

The hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Ned's mouth. "Why is that?"

"I was not built for harsh winters and wildling attacks."

"What were you built for?" he asks, and Ashara smiles at the way his own question seems to startle him.

"Warmth, laughter, and wine, all of which I'm told you sorely lack in the North."

"And what of duty?"

"Oh, I certainly was not built for that," she laughs.

"I think you lie, Ashara," Ned says, and she likes the sound of her name without the title attached, likes the way his lips seem to wrap around it.

"Why is that?"

Ned's eyes move towards the head table where Elia sits sipping wine, smiling blandly at some story Mace Tyrell's wife is telling her. "I have seen you with the princess. If you do not call it duty, what do you call it?"

"Love," she softly replies, her own eyes focusing on Elia. She knows how much Elia hates having to smile at the men and women who, in private, do not hesitate to describe her as "that Dornish girl" rather than using her proper title; and yet Elia never hesitates to still give them smiles because it is her duty.

Duty can make a person false, even one as kind and gentle as Elia, and Ashara would never have anyone question the sincerity of her devotion to Elia Martell by naming it duty.

She expects Ned to sneer at her answer the way most men would, dismissing her as a silly woman, but he doesn't. Instead he finally meets her gaze unwaveringly and it stirs something in her, the magnitude of emotion contained beneath Ned Stark's proper facade. "I would think it hard to earn your love."

Ashara slips the hand on his shoulder to the nape of his neck, stroking lightly with her fingertips; his skin is as hot as a Dornish desert, and he inhales sharply through his nose but does not protest. "For those who deserve it, it is the easiest thing in the world."

"And how does a man come to deserve it?"

"To start?" She leans close, her mouth above his, and she sees his desire to pull away, to keep on the right side of propriety. "He does not send his brother to do his courting."

The flesh beneath her hand grows hotter still as Ned blushes, but Ashara credits him with not breaking eye contact with her. As the music ends and the musicians begin a new song, Ned asks, "May I have this dance as well, Ashara?"

Warmth begins to spread through her blood. "You may, Ned."

* * *

She hated admitting it but she enjoyed the company of young Eddard Stark. He was not as handsome as his brother but she could sense that he had a very kind soul and a warm heart. Before she can enter her tent, she hears a sound; much like a slur of some kind. "Who's there?!" she calls out bravely.

It is Brandon Stark, smiling and looking quite disheveled. "Lady Dayne. How did you find my dearest Ned to be?" he inquired. "Your brother is a very kind and dutiful young man, Lord Brandon" she said. Before she can leave, Brandon grabs her shoulder. "You found the Quiet Wolf to be endearing. Well, all wolves are" he said. He was slurring his words; he was obviously drunk. "You shou - " And then he pressed his lips on hers. It was the most foul and disgusting thing she had tasted.

"Get off of me, Brandon!" she cried out. "C'mon, luv. It's alright. I don't even care for that Tully slut. I'd much rather be with a Dornish beauty like yourself" he said. Gods, he may be the most foul man she's met. "Get off!" Instead of doing that, he presses a rather sloppy kiss onto her lips once more. He suddenly begins to pin her arms down and pressing his body up against her own.

"They call me the Wild Wolf. Mayhaps you'll be the proper sheath for my sword. Mayhaps I shall call my cock the Sword of Moani- " he grumbled until her brother the gallant Sword of the Morning came. "Get your hands off her!" Arthur snarled as he quickly grabbed and shoved him to the ground. "Best get awa -" Brandon uttered until Arthur gave him a punch square in the jaw. Brandon immediately fell and began to groan in pain.

As she made it to their tent, she felt herself wanting to sob. Ned would not have treated her like that. Would he? "I hate the Starks" she says grumbling into her pillow.

The following day, it was a rather beautiful morning. Before she can make her way to Elia, she heard someone call out to her. It was Ned Stark. Did his beloved brother tell him how Dornish woman were easy to fuck? Was Ned Stark dishonorable as his brother. "Ashara. I was wondering if you would like to go riding?" he asked. "No thank you, Eddard" she regards quite coldly. "Did I do something to offend you?" he said, confused by her brazenness. "Why don't you ask your brother?" she retorted. In that moment, she didn't see the young shy boy who could not properly ask her to a dance. No, she saw anger and hatred mixed into his eyes.

He then ran off. Perhaps, he didn't know and perhaps she shouldn't have said that. She immediately went after him, now feeling regret in having said that. As she came close to the Stark tent, she saw Ned and Brandon yelling at one another with their sister attempting to calm them both down. Before she can say or do anything, Ned pushed his older brother to the ground. "What do you think you're doing?" Brandon said tauntingly. Before he can say or do anything else, Ned punched him square in the jaw.

Brandon hadn't been expecting the blow. He'd always been taller and quicker than his younger brother but Ned had been stronger for some time. His fist caught Brandon square in the chin and almost lifted him from the ground. Even as his brother had been staggering the second blow followed, catching Brandon across the eye and sending him to his knees.

"Ned stop!" Lyanna had jumped between them, pushing back as he made to rain more blows upon their brother. "He deserves it, but stop!"

"How could you?" Ned had yelled. "How could you do such a thing? What kind of a man are you?"

"A living breathing one… not some frozen fool…" Brandon had laughed again, touching his bloody lip. "Feel better? You've defended the honor of my future wife and a woman you wouldn't even bother to pursue. How fucking noble of you…"

"You disgust me." He had said, meaning it with all his heart. "I fear for Winterfell to have a lord such as you one day."

"And I weep for whatever woman our father condemns to a life with you Ned, you solemn, sulking fool…"

"Shut up Brandon!" Lyanna had yelled but Ned did not stay to hear more. He then mounted on a horse and rode off. "NED!" Lyanna called out.

* * *

It took a while but she was able to catch up to him. He was a fairly skilled rider for a Northman, and he's not even on a Dornish sand steed.

"Ned?" she says. But he doesn't turn to her. Or does he appear to listen. Instead, he unsheathes his sword and begins to strike at a tree. Perhaps he is a savage. "Eddard Stark!" she called out and finally he turned to her. But now he looked ragged and beaten. "Oh, Lady Dayne. I ... hadn't seen you" he said haltingly. Is he ashamed of me?

"What, have I spoiled your illusions of me? Did you want me to be a blushing virgin, some silly, little maid who would run away from you with virtue all aflutter? So sorry to have disappointed you." she barked out. "No. It's not that, my lady" he said. "I thought we agreed to no use of formalities" she said.

"Sometimes praying to the Old Gods cannot ease me" He says. "How often do you pray to the Old Gods?" she asked. "Every day i can. It makes me feel close to my ancestors, and it reminds me that I am of the North."

"You Northmen and your Old Gods and your honour. I thought your brother to be a handsome and charming person. Instead, he's a randy sot who went off trying to take what he shouldn't"

"Makes him sound like a wildling." Ned chuckled. "But Brandon has always been that way. More wolf-blooded. The way he acts, there are times where I am jealous of him. And then there are times when I want to hate him. Mayhaps its best that I return to the Vale"

"Will you remain in the Vale?"

"Lord Arryn has only a son and a nephew to inherit. I know the Eyrie well, and he has invited me to stay there, to help him in his affairs."

"You do not want to return to Winterfell?"

A shadow falls across Ned's face. He is quiet for so long, Ashara opens her mouth to change the subject when he explains, "There is no place I love more than Winterfell, and I love my family."

"But?"

He sighs. "But Brandon and I are very different people who often find ourselves at odds about everything. When we are together, it only ends in conflict, and I do not have the stomach for it." Ned smiles weakly. "You have older siblings, do you not? It may be different with brothers and sisters."

"Arthur used to annoy me to no end when we were children in Starfall. Prattling around, already preparing to be a Kingsguard relinquishing his claim on Starfall. Arron would talk about bringing glory to our house every day. I know what it's like with brothers, old and young. I wish I had a sister at times"

"Coming from someone who has one, its not all what it seems to be" Ned said. And she found herself chuckling.

"I ... I thank you, Ned. For defending me. You're a good man. Other than Arthur, I've never met anyone as honourable as you, Ned"

She then found herself stepping closer to him and then felt the touch of his lips on top of her own. She felt something that she had never felt with any other man that stole a kiss from her. Whereas most men would practically drool into her mouth and dart their tongues in and out of her mouth like vipers, Ned was different. The sheer way he kisses her back; like she was a gift. There was true warmth between them.

"I ... I should go back to my tents. Princess Elia and the others are probably waiting for me"

"Will I ... see you again?"

"Of course, Lord Ned"

* * *

The jousting had finished less than ten minutes ago, She found herself smiling at the thought of Brandon losing to the Dragon Prince, and on simply being with Ned. He took her by the hand and they strolled near the water. They had not walked very far when she caressed his face and kissed him passionately, leaving him breathless. "I don't want this tournament to end," she murmured into his neck. "I don't want to leave you."

He sighed against her. "We could ask our fathers if we could be promised. If, if that's something you want."

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Nothing would make me happier. It may take some time. I would want to talk with my father in person about you." She smiled at him, her face radiant.

"Maybe we should wait until my brother Brandon marries, and my sister Lyanna," he said as he smiled back at her. "Two marriages is probably enough for my father to handle right now."

She laughed merrily. "I can imagine. Soon though, soon we can be together."

With few more words they resumed their kissing. Slowly, they found themselves on the ground, pulling at clothes and laces. They whispered few words, being driven by desire for one another.

His hands were up her skirts and his trousers were half off when the reality of what they were doing finally broke out in Ned's mind. He stilled, wanting her, watching her chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. "Are you... do you... I mean..."

She groaned. "I love you Ned. Please, I want you."

"Ashara"

"I'll make a Dornishmen out of you yet, Lord Ned" she giggled.

She can see the tremble in his body as his hands reach behind her, tugging the ties of her gown so it pools at her waist; from the way Ned's eyes widen, Ashara suspects he has never seen a nude woman before, that she is now the woman he will compare all others to.

_Except there will be no other_, Ashara thinks as she takes his hand, brings it to her breast and bites the inside of her lip at the feel of his calloused fingers on sensitive skin. _He will never seek another's woman bed, will never love any woman but me._

He suddenly begins to breath out on just how beautiful she is. And Ashara cannot help but compare the pure sincerity in his voice to the smooth charm of Brandon's. There is nothing of Brandon in Ned, no impulsiveness or selfishness.

Ned's lips tremble as he wraps them around her nipple, the tip of his tongue flicking tentatively. Ashara moans, sinking her fingers into his hair, leading his hand between her thighs to stroke and tease. By the time she is shaking and arching into his touch, Ned is moving with more confidence, whispering her name and praising her beauty. She then found herself harshly whispering his name like a prayer. When she peaks, her heart racing in her chest, Ashara laughs a bit breathlessly, tugging him down for a long, slow kiss.

He lay beside her panting. They were both half disrobed. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and to his lips. "We need to return to our tents."

He kissed her. "I wish that we could stay here forever."

"So do I."

With unhappy sighs the pair redressed, returned to their horses, and rode back to the camp. When they reached her tent the two parted with a kiss that seemed almost chaste.

* * *

She found herself crying as her mother and brother presented her with that letter. It was in Ned's writing; apologizing how he can no longer marry her and how he had to honour the original arrangement between House Stark and House Tully.

She should have thrown the letter away, should have burned it, but something kept drawing her to it, some wounded part of her wanted to re-live the pain and she was reading it, constantly reading it, etching the words on her heart.

Her rage had been quelled by the hope that he would come for her but she knew now that she would never be Lady of Winterfell, never rule beside him, never feel him between her thighs or hear his words of love. Those would be saved for the Tully girl now, the one who had dreamed of Brandon Stark but had gotten his little brother instead, not understanding that underneath his somberness was the kindest man Ashara had ever met, a man who she had picked over all others, who she had loved and taken for her own even as the rest of the men at court were crawling over each other for her hand.

She would have lost herself in her grief had it not been for the babe in her stomach. Half of the babe was Ned after all, she would be bringing into the world his first-born, a feat that even Catelyn Tully could not boast of. A part of her was anxious to see the child so she could see Ned one more time, perhaps look into his grey eyes once again or see a hint of his smile in the curve of the babe's lips.

Two or three moons later, she was sitting by the window, looking out at the waves crashing across the shore, when all went dark around her and she awoke to a searing pain pulsating through her lower body, the sight of the maester scurrying around the room, and the sound of screams (her own, she realized, and she screamed louder). There was the smell of iron and a wetness all over her thighs, as though she were drowning in blood. Suddenly the maester was standing over her ("My lady, you must remain awake! There is too much blood, my lady, stay awake!") but her eyes closed once again and the pain was gone.

Ashara looked at her babe intently. The only thing about her that was remotely Ned's was her hair which was a very dark brown that it almost looked black. She had her eyes. Her mother Myriah insists that she be given a name. She tries to think of a good Northern name for her child. Ned talked about his mother once and tried to call her baby that: Lyarra. Lyarra Sand she will be though, she thought. But her daughter doesn't respond to it at all. Suddenly, the name came to her, "Allyria"

Two moons later, she saw men coming to the gates of Starfall. She immediately recognized one of them: Ned. Before she can say or do anything, he begins to make conversation with Arron. She knows that she shouldn't eavesdrop, her mother often complaining that its not ladylike. She can only hear a couple of words. Something about where Arthur had been, a babe and pact between Houses Dayne and Stark.

He then came to see her in her chambers. "Ned" she breathed out. "Ashara" he breathed out in turn. "I'm ... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all that has happened" She walked to him and touched his cheek gently, as she had so long ago at Harrenhal. "When last I saw you, there was nothing in the world that could make me sad. Now... When I heard that you married Catelyn Tully, my heart broke. When my father died in the war I felt that my strength was gone. Now you return my brother's sword and tell me that you are sorry."

"Did you kill him," she questioned quietly. "Yes," he answered eventually. She could hear the pain in his voice. Did he have a right to pain? Yes, she knew he did, he too had lost much. "It was never supposed to be like this. He was guarding my sister. I would never have let harm come to her. They raised up their swords and we fought back."

She suddenly felt more despair descending upon her heart. She began to slump and weep, and she began to feel Ned's warm hands holding her. "I'm sorry Ashara. I'm so sorry. I loved you. I still love you. I would have married you," he murmured into her hair as he held her.

She pulled back and stared at him with her beautiful violet eyes. "Would you leave her for me?" "I can't." he whispers huskily. She suddenly crashes her lips onto his own. "Ashara ..." "You were mine first" she groans into his mouth.

She began to feel every inch of his body as she begins to disrobe him. His back has scars now, a thin dribble of tissue at the small of his back with a thicker, more gnarled scar cutting across his shoulder; she traces a shining scar curved over his hip, feeling the warmth of his skin. He makes a noise in his throat as her tongue slides across his skin, gathering the taste of salt, tracing the bumps of his spine. As she lies atop him, kissing the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder, she slips her hand beneath his body, over the softness of his stomach to where his cock grows hard.

He tries to mutter in protest but that doesn't matter. She takes him in and begins to mutter his name like before. Bur this is different from last time. Last time, they made love which was sweet and tender. This was desperate, enchanting, wanting to remember him one last time. The last time he would be hers.

* * *

"There is a man here to see you, my lady."

Ashara looks up from the book she is singing to Allyria, genuinely puzzled as to who would be calling on her. With her mother and Arron returned to Starfall, it is rare that anyone seeks her out; most of her days are spent with Allyria, and she often wonders if this is how it is to be for the rest of her life.

"Did he give a name?"

"No, my lady, but he has a child with him."

Hope swells sharply in her chest as she follows the servant to the solar where the man waits. She knows it is stupid and childish to think Ned has returned to her. And yet, when she enters the solar and finds her caller is too small to be Ned, disappointment still rushes through her veins.

"May I help you?"

When the man lifts his face, Ashara instantly recognizes him. Even beneath the ridiculous hair and changes to his face, she would know the Master of Whispers anywhere. "Hello, Lady Dayne."

"What are you doing here? How dare you come here - "

"I have not come to upset you, Lady Dayne," Varys rushes to assure her. "I have come to give you a gift, a gift for us all."

"I want nothing from any of Robert Baratheon's men, least of all you," she growls, turning on her heel to have Varys removed.

"You do not recognize the boy, Lady Dayne?" he calls, stilling her retreat. "He is older than when last you saw him, but he does look so much like his father. And someone else as well"

Ashara pauses, looking at the boy toddling about the floor. He is tall for his age, which she estimates to be younger than two, with fair skin; his dark hair is fine as down feathers, and, for a moment, she thinks Lord Varys has traveled all this way to have a jape at her expense.

And then she sees the boy's eyes.

"Oh my gods," she breathes, sinking to her knees so she is eye level with the little boy. She sifts his hair through her fingers, sees the roots of his hair are silver, and Ashara nearly sobs as the boy smiles, touching her face and hair with little hands. Suddenly, a man came before her wearing dirtied armor. His hair unkempt but a beautiful silver which was weathered a bit. _Arthur_. "How?" is all she can manage.

"Princess Elia and Prince Daeron were very intelligent individuals. She knew if something were to happen to Aerys, her children would be at risk. It was a simple matter to switch a baby in its cradle. I told the princess that, when the time was right, I would bring him to you."

"To me? Why? The Martells - "

"If a silver-haired child suddenly appears at the Water Gardens, how long do you think it would be until word reached King Robert? No, the boy must be hidden and hidden well until the time is right."

"Right for what?"

"For him to take back what is his." Varys looks as serious as he ever has as he declares, "What was done to the princesses was a travesty. I begged the king to keep the city locked to Tywin Lannister. I promised the princess I would bring the prince to you, and I have fulfilled that promise."

"He will not be any better hidden here. You think people will not whisper if I suddenly there is a small boy at Starfall?"

Varys inclines his head. "And that is why you cannot remain here."

"And where would I go?"

"A friend of House Targaryen resides in Pentos. He has offered to care for you and the prince until the next step is to be taken."

Ashara traces the dainty features of Aegon's face, sweeping her finger down the bridge of his nose which is so like Elia's. "Is that where Viserys and the baby are?"

"No, the prince and princess are well-cared for by Ser Willem. You and Aegon would remain in Pentos until - "

"And what is this next step?" she pushes, getting to her feet. "You cannot expect me to do this all on your word."

"Of course not. It is important that King Robert thinks there is no threat left to his reign. In a few years, word will reach King's Landing that Jon Connington has drunk himself to death. At that time, he will join you and Aegon, and the boy's true education can begin." When Ashara says nothing, uncertain how much to trust the things he is saying, Varys adds, "This is what Princess Elia wanted. Do you not want to protect her son?"

"I will naturally protect her child. The Kingsguard swear for life" Arthur finally says.

It is not even a question; of course she does. From the moment she left King's Landing, all Ashara has thought of is Elia and her children, the failure which haunts her every moment. It will never alleviate the pain of losing Elia, of knowing what was done to her and little Rhaenys, but she is grateful Elia knew her son was safe.

"What will I have to do?"

It is a remarkably simple plan. Varys explains that, in order for this plan to work, Ashara Dayne must die. The idea of faking her death bothers her only because of Allyria, but Ashara knows there is no other way to safely spirit away Aegon to safety. She writes two letters that night, one for Allyria and one for her mother, leaving them in her mother's chambers in the Palestone Sword. Ashara stares out the window at the waves crashing against the cliffs, inhaling the scent of the Summer Sea before doing as Varys bid, tossing her slippers into the sea.

Forgive me, she silently asks of Allyria as she steals from Starfall, sneaking to the inn where Varys awaits with Aegon.

As she winds her hair into a knot at the base of her skull, she sees Varys removing something from a pack, holding up the garment for her inspection. This time, Ashara does laugh, the idea so preposterous she can hardly believe it.

"A septa's robes? Surely there is another option."

"Do you ever remember a passing septa's face? You are a beautiful woman, Lady Dayne; the less people are like to notice it, the better. Besides, who would believe Ashara Dayne to be a septa?"

The robes are damnably hot, itch terribly, and smell musty, but Ashara dons them, barely recognizing herself at all. As she holds Aegon against her as they approach the docks to board the ship bound for Pentos, Arthur says, "You will need a new name."

After a moment, Ashara decides, "Lemore. I shall be Lemore."

Varys smiles sadly. "Safe travels, Septa Lemore."

The only time Ashara ventures from her cabin on The Cinnamon Wind is when they sail past Dorne. Carrying Aegon up to the deck, Arthur suddenly points to the towers of Sunspear and whispers, "That is your mother's home. You are a Prince of Dorne, the blood of the dragon, and some day men will cheer for your return."

It is just a story now, but one day it will be true. Ashara will do anything to make it true.

But for now, she is Septa Lemore, a mother to no one, and Pentos awaits.

* * *

"You never told me how you survived the fight, brother" Ashara says, as she watches Alaric and Aegon train with Jon. "They still believed I was dead. It's a good thing too. I may not have survived. Your precious Ned left me for dead and went off inside the tower. I managed to discard my armor and had to leave Dawn behind. I managed to make my way to High Hermitage and recover. It was not until the Spider's arrival that he told me of the prince's survival and I left" Arthur said.

Their lives were quite content living in the _Shy Maid._ She suddenly saw Alaric and Aegon crouching down and singing the songs she and Arthur had taught them. "You never told me what you had been guarding and why" Ashara said. "I never intend to" Arthur said solemnly. "Why is it you won't tell me?" She asks. Instead, he looks toward Alaric and Aegon singing. "He's as good with his voice as he is with a blade" He smiles.

_His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,_

_and he smiled and he laughed and he sung,_

_ _"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,__

_the Dornishman's taken my life,_

_ _But what does it matter, for all men must die,__

_and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!_

_I ha-a-a-ve, _

_I have tasted the Dornishmen's wife!_

She and Arthur then found themselves laughing. "When I tell you what happened at that accursed tower, I will have to tell Aegon as well. And you will have to tell Alaric about his father" Arthur says mysteriously as he heads toward his cabin. What would he have to tell Aegon? Suddenly, Jon approaches her. "What is it, Griff?" she asks. Even before, she never had any patience for the man.

"We are leaving. We now head to Mereen" he says. "Mereen? What will we find in Mereen?" she asks. "A way back home"

* * *

**Oberyn**

"They are winning" Oberyn points out. "I am aware of that brother" Doran says coolly. "Then why is it we do nothing?! Do you not love your family as I have?!" he shouts.

"I am not blind, nor deaf. I know you all believe me weak, frightened, feeble. You have ever been the viper. Deadly, dangerous, unpredictable. No man dared tread on you. I am the grass. Pleasant, complaisant, sweet-smelling, swaying with every breeze. Who fears to walk upon the grass? But it is the grass that hides the viper from his enemies and shelters him until he strikes" he replies, with a bit of anger coming out of his mouth. This surprises hims.

Suddenly, his brother Olymer appears before them. "Have you retrieved her?" Doran asked. "Manfrey is bringing her now. She has been talking with Arianne and Tyene" Olymer replies. "I have been keeping an eye on our dragons. After Viserys' untimely demise, I overheard reports of intriguing people. One who deems himself a prince as well. I can assure you I have waited for the dragon to come for far longer. I have learned to contain myself"

Suddenly, a young woman was brought up by his nephew. She looked so much a Martell. Dark hair, black eyes and olive skin. Familiar. No, she couldn't be. She was too young, Yet she looked just like her.

"Elia?"

"She does look so much like our sweet sister, does she not? But alas, she is not. I do believe you remember your courtesies brother. For you stare at the Princess of the Iron Throne"

_**Sorry about this chapter. Yes, Dany's not alone! And there's more to the Rebellion that meets the eye. And it seems that Daeron's plan for his family's safety had worked. And yes, he was in love with Lyanna; like genuinely in love with her. Not insulting R+L=J, but I don't really think that Rheagar actually loved Lyanna. I think he might have cared about her, but he seemed pretty invested in the Prince that Was Promised prophecy.**_

_**I've noticed there's a bit of parallels regarding the Baratheon and Stark families. Brandon and Robert seem very much alike from what I've read in the books. With the exception that he seems to care for his family more so than Robert, Brandon seems like an asshole who just does what ever the hell he wants with no regards for the consequences. Sorry if the rape scene wasn't to your liking, but it seems like Brandon would possibly do that kind of thing.**_

_**Also, regarding the comments of the "Tully whore/slut" as he addressed Catelyn in. I don't really think he wanted to actually marry her. Barbrey Dustin mentions something about Lord Rickard's southron ambitions in one of Theon's chapters. And considering just how alike Brandon and Robert are, I don't really think he would have settled. And there's a comment he makes regarding a bloody sword being the most beautiful thing ever: he could be addressing taking a girl's maidenhead and/or an actual bloody sword. He could have been content with being a sellsword or a Kingsguard; anything not regarding matrimony. Below is a more up-to-date timeline of events. Again, I own nothing. Wish I did though. **_

**Year Month #**

259 10 Tragedy of Summerhall; Rhaegar Targaryen is born

261 9 Reyne-Tarbeck Rebellion crushed

262 1 Robert Baratheon is born

262 2 Brandon Stark is born

262 5 King Jaehaerys II dies of an illness

262 5 Aerys Targaryen II is crowned

263 4 Eddard Stark is born

263 9 Elbert Arryn is born

264 7 Catelyn Tully is born

264 7 Stannis Baratheon is born

265 7 Jaime and Cersei Lannister are born

266 2 Lyanna Stark is born

266 8 Lysa Tully is born

267 3 Tywin Lannister becomes the Lord of the Rock

267 8 Prince Daeron Targaryen is born

267 10 Benjen Stark is born

268 2 Petyr Baelish is born

268 2 Thaddeus Tully is born

270 3 Prince Aemon and Princess Aemma Targaryen are born

273 4 Tyrion Lannister is born; Johanna Lannister dies

273 7 Princess Shaena Targaryen is born

273 7 Edmure Tully is born

274 8 Jaehaerys Targaryen is born

274 8 Willas Tyrell is born

275 6 Sebaston Tully is born

275 8 "Gerris Drinkwater" is born

276 9 Arianne Martell is born

276 9 Viserys Targaryen is born

276 10 Rhaegar Targaryen is knighted

277 2 Garlan Tyrell is born

277 4 Renly Baratheon is born

277 12 Defiance of Duskendale

278 3 Steffon and Cassana Baratheon are sent to Essos to find a bride for Rhaegar

278 9 Steffon and Cassana Baratheon drown in the coast of Shipbreaker Bay

279 1 Elia Martell is betrothed to Prince Rhaegar

279 1 Mya Stone is born

279 10 Stannis Baratheon and Jeyne Swann marry

280 11 Dyanna and Jena Baratheon are born

281 11 Tourney at Harrenhal

282 2 Ashara Dayne sent back to Starfall

282 4 Lyanna Stark taken from the Riverlands

282 5 Brandon Stark arrives in KL

282 5 Rickard Stark summoned to KL

282 7 Rickard Stark arrives in King's Landing, nearly everyone executed

282 7 letter arrives in Eyrie with the order for Jon Arryn to kill Eddard and Robert a week later

282 7 The rebellion starts

282 8 Battle of Gulltown, Ned and Robert go to raise their banners

282 8 Allyria Dayne is born

282 10 Battle of Summerhall

282 12 Battle of Ashford

282 12 Lord Jeffory Dayne, father of Arron, Arthur, and Ashara Dayne dies in combat

282 12 Siege of Storm's End begins

283 1 Battle of the Bells

283 1 Ursula Elesham dies; Clifford Arryn is born

283 1 Ned Stark/Catelyn Tully wed, Denys Arryn/Lysa Tully wed

283 3 Samwell Tarly born

283 4 Battle of the Trident

283 5 Queen Rhaella Targaryen and Viserys sent to Dragonstone

283 7 Sack of King's Landing

283 7 Margaery Tyrell born

283 8 Robard and Armond Baratheon are born; Jeyne Swann dies of a fever

283 8 Jon, son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, born

283 9 Siege of Storm's End is lifted

283 9 Skirmish at the Tower of Joy, Lyanna dies; Ned visits Starfall

283 10 Robb Stark and Raymont Arryn are born

284 2 Catelyn and Robb head north

284 2 Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister wed

284 2 Daenerys Targaryen Born

284 3 Elbert Arryn and Mina Tyrell wed

284 4 Catelyn and Robb arrive in Winterfell

284 6 Alaric Dayne is born

284 10 Gendry Baratheon is born

285 1 Stannis Baratheon and Delena Florent wed

285 3 Euron Greyjoy is born

285 3 Osbert Arryn born

285 5 Androw Arryn is born

285 10 Daven Baratheon and Edric Storm are born

286 2 Joffrey Baratheon, is born

286 5 Cassella Dayne, is born

286 7 Janna and Rhea Arryn are born

286 12 Sansa Stark is born

287 4 Trystane Martell is born

287 5 Tywell and Qyle Arryn are born

287 6 Edrick Dayne is born

288 11 Greyjoy Rebellion begins

289 1 Ned leaves Winterfell to fight against the Greyjoys

289 3 Arya Stark is born

289 4 Corwyn and Artos Arryn are born

289 5 Shireen Baratheon is born

289 5 Arron Dayne is killed in the Battle of Pyke

289 6 Greyjoy Rebellion ends

289 9 Ned returns to Winterfell with Theon Greyjoy

290 6 Myrcella, and Tommen Baratheon, is born

290 7 Brandon (Bran) Stark is born

292 3 Robin Arryn is born

292 5 Ethan and Olene Arryn are born

292 6 Dorea Sand is born

292 10 Rickon Stark is born

294 4 Loreza Sand is born

295 10 Pearse Baratheon is born

295 11 Roland, Willam, and Axel Baratheon are born

295 11 Alynne Connington dies


	23. Chapter 23

**Raymont**

This was it. This was the day of reckoning. He could smell King's Landing from five miles away. _Even out here, the smell of shit is strong_, he thought. He had begun to eye his men as he was about to lead the van. Ray then looked to a nervous looking soldier. "What is your name, lad?" Raymont questioned the soldier. "Jon, my lord. It's short for Jonothor" he said. "That's not a common name in the Vale. Did your father or grandfather fight for King Robert?" he asked. "He did my lord. My father. He often told me tales on how he saw Robert Baratheon personally slay Rhaegar Targaryen" Jonothor replied.

Raymont then stood tall as a lord could. "MEN! MEN OF THE VALE! ARE YOU AFRAID! I am. I am afraid. I am afraid of never seeing my home. Afraid that I won't be able to grow old and watch my children skip about merrily. I am afraid that I will never see my family again. That I won't be seeing all the faces I have known and grow up with. I'm not asking for you to fight for me. But fight for the good of everyone. For if we allow that monster Joffrey so-called Baratheon continue to sit on the Iron Throne, then all will be lost. We will all be subjects to his reign. Will you fight today?!" he shouted.

Silence stills them at first. But then came a shout.  
"FOR LORD ARRYN!"  
"FOR THE VALE!"  
"THE YOUNG FALCON!"  
"AS HIGH AS HONOUR!"

Before he can say or do anything, he spots Robard and Margaery. "Stay safe." she tells him. "Don't worry about me. I won't fail. We will emerge victorious and I'll get to see you soon after. And our child" he said, clutching her waist. Robard the proceeded to go to the front of the men."This is it! This is what we have been training for! We will take King's Landing! We will remove that abomination that calls itself a king!" Robard said. "FORWARD MARCH!"

"ARCHERS! AT THE READY!" He commanded. They all quickly notched the arrows. "HOLD!" "FIRE!"

* * *

**Tyrion**

The Battle of Blackwater. The acting Hand of the King, Tyrion Lannister, sets in place a giant chain that traps both Lannister and Baratheon ships alike to be burned in wildfire commissioned from the Alchemists Guild. Nevertheless, the remaining forces of Stannis Baratheon moves forward under his command.

We're fucked. The majority of the men leaving, the Hound leaving, how could it get any worse.

"Your Grace! The queen has sent me to return you back to the Red Keep!" Lancel says as he runs toward them. Joffrey definitely looks much like a frightened lion. "If you won't defend your own city, why should they?" he said, pointing to the soldiers. "What would you have me do?" he whimpered. Gods, this boy is mad, helpless and stupid. "Lead. Get down there and lead your people against the invaders who want to kill them" he said sharply. "What did my mother say, exactly? Did she have urgent business with me?" Joffrey asked. "She did not say your grace" Lancel replied.

Joffrey then looked around. "Ser Mandon, Ser Osmund, stay with my uncle and represent the King in the field of battle" he said. He discreetly then made his way out of the crowd. He's good at letting others torture others, he seems to love the thought of blood gushing out, and yet, he has no real stomach for it. A true shit through and through,

What could be done now? It suddenly comes to mind. I'll lead the attack. "I'll lead the attack!" he cried out. His new squire Podrick Payne then handed him his helm. "Ser Mandon, bear the king's banner. Men forward! Men! Men?" he says in vain attempt to rally them. Their confidence is lower than ever now with their gracious king leaving. "They say I'm half a man. But what does that make the lot of you?"

"The only way out is through the gate. And they're at the gates!" one of the soldiers cried out. "There's another way out. I'll show you. We'll come out behind them and fuck them in their arses!" He was then interrupted by a crack of the gate. "Don't fight for your king. And don't fight for his kingdoms. Don't fight for honour or glory. Don't fight for riches cuz you won't get any. This is your city Stannis means to sack! That's your gate he's ramming! If he gets in, it'll be your houses he'll burn. Your gold he'll steal. Your woman he will rape. Those are brave men knocking at our door. Let's go kill them!"

Now he was met with numerous war cries and echoes. The acting Hand of the King, Tyrion Lannister, sets in place a giant chain that traps both Lannister and Baratheon ships alike to be burned in wildfire commissioned from the Alchemists Guild. Nevertheless, the remaining forces of Stannis Baratheon moves forward under his command.

Tyrion Lannister is forced to lead a sortie past the city walls after Sandor Clegane, who is terrified of fire, refuses to do so. It proves to be a success, although an by Ser Mandon Moore, a member of the Kingsguard, slices off his nose in an assassination attempt. Podrick Payne, his squire, rescues Tyrion before Ser Mandon had the chance to finish him.

* * *

Stannis Baratheon infiltrates The Fishmonger Square and into The Hook with some of his men led by Ser Loras Tyrell. The Bastard of Nightsong, Rolland Storm, encounters opposition from numerous members of the City Watch as well as umjumped sellswords.

Randyll Tarly, with some Redwyne, Chester, and Bulwer loyalists, lends his strategic aid as Tyrell supporters and launches a stout attack in Lion Gate.

The Gate of the Gods has fallen and the sack of King's Landing being led by Osbert Arryn and the Brotherhood of Winged Knights has begun. Tywin Lannister is able to slay a handful of Reachmen and Stormmen but is ultimately grievously wounded by a sneak attack from Osbert.

**Osbert**

"Had enough, Old Lion?" Osbert taunted, as he swung his sword at the old man. He had to admit, he still had a large deal of martial prowess. "Lion's do not kneel to pigeons!" he growled. "I'm not a pigeon. I am the Falcon Knight!" he said, swinging his sword at his ribs. Tywin Lannister holds on to dear life with little help from the remaining members of the City Watch and his forces.

Just as he is about to deal another blow to him, he turns his head to a gurgling sound behind him. His cousin Tywell clutching on to his chest as a sword pierced right through it. And right behind him was that Mad Mouse. Shadrick.

"You traitor!" Osbert growled out. Shadrick says nothing but begins to head toward him now. "Protect Lord Arryn!" Robar shouts. "THE FALCON KNIGHT!" Ser Parmen Crane and Guyard Morrigen shout. They immediately rush to him and begin to defend him. Shadrick had not been bragging. He was a good fighter. He's definitely seen and fought in many battles. The man is relentless. Guyard and Parmen immediately came to his aid, proceeding to defend him. He was small but agile and quick with a blade. He was caught by surprise as he gouged out Parmen's eye and gave a deep cut across Guyard's face: leaving the two knight's groaning and wincing in pain.

"You really are a mad mouse!" Osbert growled. "Even a falcon must submit to lesser beings" he said as he began to strike him down. "Why're you doing this?!" he snarled out. "For one bird to be king of the sky, the bigger one must fall!" Shadrick said, stabbing him in the chest with a dirk.

Just before he can strike a finishing blow, Hardyng came to his aid. His own blade coming out of the Mad Mouse's chest. "Ser Robar! Ser Robar!" Harry screams out, crying for help. _No, no. I don't need help. My father's here. My father's near._

* * *

**Daven**

He charged right at every available knight that came at his way. His father often told him that killing someone will haunt him forever. But right now, he didn't care. For he knew he was fighting for a good cause. For Joffrey's downfall.

"Tyrek, Edric. You alright?" he asked. Tyrek was a very skilled bowman but an even better swordsman. With the right training regimen and practice, he could be better than the Kingslayer. Then again, he knew that he had quite the martial prowess. He observed a fight he had with Joffrey, and he could tell he was holding himself back. Because he was fighting a prince.

Edric was a very skilled swordsman. What surprised him was his skills with a warhammer. He swung that newly made warhammer like something out of a legend. Almost like having a young Robert Baratheon right by his side.

"I'm alright. What about you, Ty?" Edric replied. "Never better. What now?" Tyrek asked. "What do you mean, what now? We're going to do what should have been done in the first place" he said. "Silent Storm, are you really suggesting we go on and kill Joffrey?" Edric said. "Silent Storm?" Tyrek inquired. "A story ... for a ... different time" He said raggedly. "You know an easier way into the keep?" Daven asked Tyrek. "Yeah. Follow me"

**Stannis**

The remaining goldcloaks did not stop Stannis Baratheon and his men from reaching the Red Keep. Cersei Lannister pushes aside her children and throws herself at the mercy of Stannis.

"Is this the abomination the rumours speak of?" said Stannis, referring to King Joffrey.

"He is your nephew, surely you will grant them mercy," pleads Cersei, kneeling. "I will give anything to assure that."

Stannis looks at Cersei with a stern expression. "Aye, I want your life, woman, the same way you took my brother's. Like you took my son! For usurping the throne for your own gain, and for treason you will be executed."

Stannis turns to Rolland Storm, prompting him to make Cersei a prisoner. He turns his side over to the boy king, who is sitting at the Iron Throne holding a crossbow aimed at him.

"You would know well not to aim that thing at me, lad," warned Stannis.

**Robard**

They opened the gates to find Stannis wounded, with a bolt piercing through his clavicle. "FATHER!" he shouted out, running toward him. Joffrey stood there, breathing a little raggedly but bearing the same smug smile he always bore.

"I always known you to be jealous, cousin. You and your traitor father dare take my throne? I AM THE Ki -" he said, as an arrow shot at him. It got his shoulder. Just as he proceeded to grab at it, another shot him in his middle. Joffrey then began to slump to the floor and Queen Cersei began to scream so loudly that the people of Flea Bottom could hear her. He then turned around to see just who had done the deed. It was a trio of young boys. One of them was clearly a Lannister. The other was his cousin Edric. The one in the center was a face he didn't think he'd see.

"I never liked him" the Lannister said. But his attention was turned to the leader. "Daven" he whispered. "Robard" his half-brother whispered back but more harshly. He then came to him and gave him a loving embrace. _Gods, I should have done this more when he was still here and young_, he thought. But his younger brother's attention was then turned to what had happened near the throne. "FATHER!" he shouted, his attention drawn to him.

"D-Daven. Daven. H-How is it ..." "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter" he said warmingly. This was strange even for him. He was never the type of person who would show just what he was feeling. He had been called the Silent Storm for a reason.

"Cersei Lannister, and Joffrey Waters. In the name of King Stannis, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm, I, Prince Robard, Heir of the Seven Kingdoms charge you with the crimes of fornication, incest and conspiracy to the kingdoms. Ser Elston Chelsted, Ser Wendel Wensington, take them both to the black cells. But first, let Joffrey be taken to a maester first. I want him healed before he answers for his crimes" he said in the most authoritative voice he mustered out. "Yes, your grace" they replied.

It was over. It was over. But it didn't feel over.


	24. Chapter 24

**_Hello, followers. lol. Sorry for not uploading this faster but its a relatively short chapter. I had been vacationing in Ecuador and enjoying writer's block to a degree. _**

**_Someone messaged me about Denys and Lysa's relationship. So, here's an overall backstory and analysis of it. During the Battle of the Bells, Denys had come face to face with Jon Connington. Jon grievously injured Hoster Tully and Denys Arryn both. He would have made the killing blow to him had it not been for the timely arrival of Thaddeus Tully and his own force showing up then followed by Robert's force. _**

**_After Denys had recovered, he learned of his wife's death and that only their son remains. Before being given a proper chance to mourn for her, Hoster Tully insists that he marry Lysa to cement the Tully troops to Robert's Rebellion. Elbert had recently returned and Denys insisted that he wed Lysa instead of him. He ultimately agrees due to Elbert refusing; still intending to honour his betrothal to Mina Tyrell. _**

**_Naturally, Lysa is ecstatic to marry him for Denys is handsome, charming, courteous, muscular and in his prime (Denys is roughly in his early to mid-twenties). As he returns, Lysa has presented him with their son Raymont. Denys is happy with his new son but the loss of many friends and his wife had nearly broken him like Ned. Denys and Lysa barely adjusted to one another; mostly Denys. _**

**_Lysa still suffered a series of miscarriages, much like in canon, after the birth of Osbert. Some time between Osbert and Robin's birth, Denys was gradually becoming more distant and spent time with Ray and Cliff. Lysa herself begins to seethe with rage at the thought of her son and his son together. Primarily at Denys spending time with his son as well.  
_****_Go back to chapters 12 and 18 for some clarification into it. And in 18, Lysa is somewhat correct. _**

**_So, without futher ado ..._**

**Rhaenys**

"I-It ... It can't be. This is not some kind of sick jape you are playing on me as I did with you when we were children, Doran?" said the youngest Prince of Dorne.

"I can assure you this is very much your niece" said the older one. She recalled them faintly. She remembered seeing the younger prince of Dorne a long time ago in a different life. She faintly recalls him throwing her up in the air and catching her, the sound of a woman's voice pleading not to do so as he did.

But that was a life time ago. A different life. For the longest time, she had not been Rhaenys daughter of Rhaegar. She had been Serena Sand for the longest time.

She remembered the very last time she had been Rhaenys daughter of Rhaegar. "I will tell you what happened. If you may" she says, which seems to soothe the youngest Prince of Dorne.

She faintly recollected the last memories she had of her early childhood.

* * *

"Please, Elia! You need to get yourself and them out of the city!" she heard and saw a man with hair possessing the same light and luster of her father cry out.  
"I-I ... I can't Daeron. I-"  
"Elia, please. Look at them. Do you want your children to suffer? Your daughter raped? Your baby son butchered?"  
"Of course not, but Rhaegar - "  
"Has condemned us all. Please, think of them. Their safety"  
"And what of you? Your brothers and sisters?"  
"I've found ways to get them out of the city. They're to go to Dragonstone with my mother, and then separate. With the way Baratheon is winning, he'll surely make his way to the Capital."

"Olymer, are you serious?" she overhears. It is the voice of her mother. Once again, she sneaks a peek as to who she is speaking to. It is a large broad-shouldered man with copper-like skin, wearing armor adorned with the sun pierced by a spear.  
"I am certain, sister"  
"But you love Serena. How can you condemn your own child like this?"  
"She looks enough like your own. What was the first thing that mother taught us?"  
"Olymer ..."  
"Family must protect family. We had some help in finding a suitable replacement for your son"  
"She is your daughter. You-You love her!"  
"They say that she is sickly. And may not live to her next name day. That is what the maester told me upon her birth. And yet she lives. Much like you. Strong, vibrant. I would not wish this kind of atrocity on her but to protect your children ..."  
"Olymer ..."  
"I will do what is right. And they must be separated"

Suddenly, her mother came through the door and took note of her. "What are you doing here, my little dragon?" she asks sweetly. Quickly, she said, "I heard something scary" "Oh. I'm sure it was just the wind blowing against the castle's walls. Rhaenys, come."

"What happening mama? Where we goin'?" Rhaenys asks, her eyes wide.

"You're going on a journey, my little dragon." Elia says fighting to keep her voice calm.

"A journey? Like in story?" Her daughter asks.

"Yes my sweet like in a story. A nice journey to a land far away, of sun and sand. Where there are no spiders or mice to hurt you." Elia says, breathing out a heavy sigh. She looks as if she were about tot cry.

"I'll be with you soon, little one" her mother breathes out heavily.

"You pwomise mama?"

"I promise my little dragon. Be brave now. Be kind, and good."

"I love you my little dragon, never forget that mama loves you."

"I love you too mama." Rhaenys says. She then got onto a large boat sailing off to her mother's home.

* * *

Her uncle Oberyn just stared at her, wide-eyed in disbelief. "I-I can't believe this. You said that Serena had died of an illness." He said, turning his head to Olymer.

"I did say that. You have always been brash and impulsive than the three of us. But then again, you are the youngest of us." Olymer said, giving a sad, dry smile.

"I must ask, dear niece of mine. Just where have you been? My brother says that you were hiding in plain sight in Dorne. But where exactly?" Oberyn inquired. "A rather large and lavish castle near the Torrentine" she replied.

"Blackmont?" he replied. Instead, she gave him back a small wry smile, nodding no. "Starfall?" he asked, and she still smiled her smile and shook her head. "High Hermitage, brother. I swear, there are times when your mind is as dull as the end of your spear" Doran said, giving a slight chuckle.

"The men who took me there, they said I would be most safe there. For many often overlook the Daynes of High Hermitage because of their ruthlessness and uncouthness. They told me that I would stay there until the time is right" she said

"That was a rather smart plan, Olymer. I thought that Doran was the intelligent one among us all" Oberyn said. "It was more of Elia's than mine own, She needed to grow up safe and happy, even if she had to take on the name of my sweet Serena" Olymer said.

"High Hermitage was a fairly pleasant place. There are a lot of silver-haired boys there that I played with, that they looked almost Targaryen. Even a silver-haired girl and boy who stayed there briefly. Until the guards made them leave" Rhaenys said, faintly recalling from her childhood.

"We have one of the heads. Now we just need the other two." Doran said, looking grim.

"Other heads? Uncle, what are you talking about?" she asked.  
"We are going to bring back the king. Your brother"

**Daeron**

He felt his mind wander to her at times. Her long flowing dark brown hair. That smile she had been wearing as they danced. Mayhaps I could have prevented the war, he thinks to himself. If I hadn't been so craven. If I had been bolder.

But he cannot dwell on the past. What's done is done. And yet, he is still plagued by it all. The blood pouring into the Trident. The sounds of women being taken. The screams and groans of pain as the fighting men are desperately trying to hold in their entrails. And then he sees the boy.

Of all the things that plagues his mind, it is the boy that confounds him. A young boy of at least six-and-ten with dark-brown hair and piercing slate grey eyes that remind him of Lyanna's. Dressed in a dark garb of some kind, wielding a glowing red sword crying out some kind of chant. The glow of the sword becoming even brighter; men clamoring around him. He can never make out all of the chant.

I ... sword ... darkness. I ... watcher ... walls. I ... fire ... cold, the light ... dawn, the horn ... sleepers, the shield ... men.

Just what does it mean? But there was something about the boy which was undoubtedly familiar.

"My king?" said the young Prince of Dorne as he followed him into the Great Pyramid, waiting for Dany. "I am not a king. I never was. And never will be" Daeron said to him. "Technically, by the laws of succession, you are a king. You are King Daeron Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm"

"You want something, don't you? You were rather surprised when I had decided to reveal myself to my own sister" Daeron practically sneered. He had grown fond of Quentyn during his time in the Windblown. But there was something about his serious face that he just did not trust. Suddenly, Quentyn pulled out a piece of parchment from his boot.

Suddenly, Dany and her party arrived. "What's going on?" Dany asked, curious about the parchment as well. Daeron then took it out of Quentyn's hand and shown it to her. "What does it say?" Gendry said, standing tall in his armor. Much like Ser Barristan's armor, the mail is gilded, finely wrought, the links as supple as good leather, the plate enameled, hard as ice and bright as new fallen snow, a white leather belt with golden buckles and a long white cloak. The helm he held in his arms was also done in the shape of a bull's head, the two horns arching upwards, capped in bronze.

"The alliance is to be sealed by a marriage, it says. In return for Dorne's help overthrowing the Usurper, my brother Viserys is to take Prince Doran's daughter Arianne for his queen." Dany said, looking to the parchment in mild disbelief. Barristan then looks at the parchment himself. " If Robert had known of this, he would have smashed Sunspear as he once smashed Pyke, and claimed the heads of Prince Doran and the Red Viper ... and like as not, the head of this Dornish Princess too." he remarks.

There is no doubt in his mind that Viserys had been kept in the dark about this marriage pact. "If my brother had known that he had a Dornish princess waiting for him, he would have crossed to Sunspear as soon as he was old enough to wed" Daeron remarks.

"Mother of Dragons. I had not been properly introduced to you. I am known to the Windblown as "Frog" and even "Prince Frog". I am actually Prince Quentyn Martell of Dorne" he said, bowing before her. "And these men are my friends, Sers Cletus and Archibald Yronwood, and Ser Gerris Drinkwater"

"Prince Quentyn. Your father keeps his secrets well, Prince Quentyn. Too well, I fear." Barristan remarked. He then saw Gendry eyeing Gerris rather strangely, like he was attempting a stand-off between the two.

"Yes, he has. He had sent me to offer Queen Daenerys the might of Dorne, along with a royal consort. But I had not known of the survival of your brother Daeron. So, I ask that your brother wed my sister" Quentyn said.

Wait a minute, what? I as the consort of a Dornish Princess? I am quite old now to be of a marriageable age. And more than likely the Princess of Dorne would spurn him. He was more hardened than before. He hadn't even thought of being with a woman in such a long time. Daeron had spent all of his time travelling and training without end.

"I cannot speak on my brother's behalf. He and I will have to confer about this." Dany said.

He then took of Gendry's staring again. "What's wrong, lad?" he asked. "Not real" he muttered.

"Gendry?"

"Huh? It's nothing. It's just ... nothing"

"What's wrong? Something's wrong, isn't it? C'mon, tell me."

"I spent most of my life learning about every house. I don't know whether it's a nickname or something, but there is no House Drinkwater"

**Daenerys**

Rather than go back to her own chambers, she followed Gendry to his. He had somehow become quite sullen lately and she intended to find out why.

"What is wrong?" she asks. "Nothing" he replies sullenly. Was he jealous that Daeron was now taking part in educating her?

"Gendry. Something is wrong. You have been one of my most trusted friends and allies. Please, tell me, is something wrong?" she asked.

"Not much. I don't trust that Gerris Drinkwater" he replied in such a stiff manner.

"No, it's not that. It's something else. Tell me"

"Daenerys, I ..."

"I am your Queen, tell me" she then ordered.

"I ... I wish that that I was never a prince; an heir to the kingdoms. What he said about the young princes and princesses were true. That's how I became a prince. Through blood and war" he said sadly.

He was confusing now. "When I was sent to my mother's home of Casterly Rock to be fostered, I had overheard some men. They talked about the day King's Landing had been sacked. They were ... laughing. Laughing on how they personally saw and killed the princes and princesses. When I went to talk to my grandfather about it; about killing them for taking part and bragging about it, he just dismissed me. Said it was just a casualty of war. That was no casualty, it was murder; butchery! No real knight would go on bragging on how he successfully killed children. Who does that?!" Gendry growled.

She was surprised by the ferocity in his voice. But now, she came to understand him. It wasn't the simple notion of not wanting to be a prince, and being loved for the titles he bore. He did not want to be a prince because of how his family ascended into royalty: through war and bloodshed.

"When I came back to King's Landing, I personally asked my father to order their deaths; every one who took part in it. And you know what he did? He laughed. He was drunk but he laughed! And then got angry really quick; called me a dragonspawn loving whoreson. That if I weren't his son and heir, he'd send me to the Wall for saying that. He was drunk and proud that he climbed upon the throne over the deaths of children." He then began to wipe away the silent tears that dripped upon his face.

"Don't you miss anything from your home in Westeros?" she feels compelled to ask.

"Mostly my younger brother and sister. At times, my betrothed, Sansa Stark." he says. She suddenly felt jealous. But how could she be jealous of someone who had been able to hold and caress his heart? How could she be jealous of a person she doesn't know or had met?

"What makes her so special? What is is about her that you miss?" she tries to ask without sounding scornful

Gendry sighed. "You don't know Westeros like I do. King's Landing itself is a hive of secrets, deception and most of all plans. Families in Westeros like the Tyrells or the Lannisters are constantly plotting and scheming to put their house on top. All theses lords would go on flaunting their daughters in front of me and my brother. Sansa may not have the necessary skills in politics, or an adventurous nature, but she has one thing that the others are too learned to have."

"What is that?" she asked. In all the time they has spent together, Daenerys never saw Gendry in a more serious manner. His expression dark, his tone humorless. Clearly this was not something he took lightly and it showed how serious he was about marrying this girl.

"Innocence," he replied. "Sweet, pure innocence. Many of the women are tutored since childhood in how to play the game of thrones. Because of this they are skillful manipulators. My mother has a gift for it as well. But since my grandfather Tywin has his head up his own arse refuses to teach her how to use it. My mother has proven that she is good at gaining power but because of her father, can't unable to wield it properly. Like a babe trying to wield a sword. I have seen first hand the Lannisters and the Tyrells weave their webs around my father and my Uncle Renly. I don't want any of it. I will not be manipulated and put on strings; turning into someone else's puppet."

_He fears that he will become like his father_, she realized. From what she heard about King Robert's misrule from Ser Barristan, Daenerys couldn't help but think that in many ways Gendry was wise for his age.

"Sansa. Sh-She's different," Gendry continued. "Not only is she the daughter of a great lord, she comes from the most honorable house in Westeros led by one of the greatest men I have ever known. The Starks have been taught the importance of honor, integrity. Her sweet and gentle nature are genuine. She wouldn't gain influence or increase her image before others, but because she truly wants to. But most of all Sansa would never betray me, she won't try to manipulate me. Because she has no knowledge about politics it means there is plenty of room for her mind to develop. Wisdom begins with ignorance"

Dany stared at Gendry, his mouth open in shock. Admittedly she had assumed that he wanted to marry Sansa for her beauty like many noblemen do. But now it was clear that Gendry had actually put a lot of consideration into his decision. Now, she had felt jealous.

"So, would you say that Lady Sansa is a ... great beauty?" she said, slowly removing the laces of her dress as Gendry had been facing the wall now.

"Yes. Her eyes the brightest shade of blue. Her hair bright red like copper or fire, or - Daenerys, what are you doing?!" he said, startled by her now naked form.

"Do you not find me beautiful, ser knight?"

"Gods, I do. You know I do. But we cannot. I am of your Queensguard. We swear to serve and obey the queen a-"

"Ser Gendry Baratheon. Your Queen is giving you a command. She commands you to fuck her."

"I wish I could but -"

"No more buts Ser." She had him now, she knew it. She began to undo his swordbelt, before his strong arms embraced her. Before long, she had stepped up on her toes, and kissed him. The moment her lips touched him his arms had come around her and she'd found herself lifted off her feet and pressed against his rock hard chest. Rather than protest as she should have done, she'd wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning softly into his kiss as his hands move to her ass and thighs, holding her up and pressing her against him.

She'd ended up splayed out on his cot completely naked, fingers laced in his dark hair as his head moved down her body, kissing and licking his way to her core. She'd exploded in ecstasy as he tongued and kissed her clit, spiraling over the edge when he'd fixed her with his beautiful blue eyes to watch the effect his intimate efforts were having on her. When the pulses of pleasure had finished wracking her body she'd reached for him, eager to free his visibly hard cock from its restraint inside his breeches. She felt nothing but pure bliss and ecstasy as he entered her. He didn't simply jam it inside of her, he was careful and gentle. It was sweet.

He moved again then, faster and harder than before, making sure he buried himself as deep as he could got each time he rocked back into her perfect warmth. Her hips moved up to meet his pace, a cry leaving her mouth each time he hit hard inside her and her hands gripping at his shoulders, her nails digging in but it was a good pain. When she began to reach her end Gendry growled out, she felt so damn good he wanted to hold on long enough to finish her, to push her right to the edge. Somehow he managed it, feeling her muscles clench around him and hearing her breathless voice mumbling his name over and over as he continued his thrusts a moment longer before reaching his own end deep inside her.

The breath was knocked from Daenerys then as he collapsed against her, breathing hard in her ear as she fought to get her own breath back, her hands unclenching from his shoulders, softly tracing over them and feeling the small crescents she had left in his skin. He kissed her neck then, finally sliding from her warmth and moving his hand to cup her cheek, the other trailing her side lightly as he lifted his head to look at her. Her own hands came up to cup his face then and they gazed at one another for what felt like an eternity. It didn't feel awkward though, it just felt right as their eyes held one another's, neither set looking away.

This felt so right. This was where she belonged; safe in the arms of her beloved knight.

_**The next chapter will be taking place in Westeros and should be posted within the first two weeks of September. **_


	25. Chapter 25

**Jon**

As they miraculously managed to find their way back to the Hollow Hill, Jon could not believe what he had heard from Domeric.

"You must be japing" he said. "I'm afraid not my friend. From what I have heard, my father struck an opportunity with the Lannisters that he simply couldn't resist" Domeric said, in his calming sweet-spoken voice.

"Fucking craven!" Arya nearly screamed out at Domeric. Unfortunately, Dom did not retaliate. He simply looked as somber as he did. "I didn't know what my father had been planning or for how long. I had been captured by Lannister men when I fought in the Whispering Wood. I never heard of this plan up until two moons ago" Domeric said.

"Do you know anything else, Dom? Please, think" Jon said, prodding for information. "Just ... something about a wedding being as bloody, Stark's remembering and House Lannister finally getting its due"

"We should stop this" Colen said with a face seared with determination. "Colen is right, lads. The Frey's have always been an untrustworthy lot. It sounds like they would break guest right for a slight. We're the Brotherhood without Banners. We fight to defend the realm, and last time I checked, the Young Wolf fought to defend the realm."

"Maybe we shouldn't get involved, lad. Perhaps this is the work of the Gods for the Young Wolf dishonouring his promise" Thoros said.

"And is it the work of the Gods that the Freys are a bunch of miserable old cocks who plan to kill everyone in their castle; dishonouring guest right?" Colen retorted. For a boy roughly Arya's age, he had the foul mouth of a battle-hardened and grizzled man.

"The boys are right. We swore to defend the realm on the words of our king Robert, under the command of his hand Eddard Stark. A man I call a friend. His son, my nephew, should not be slain because he chose not to dishonour a girl rather than honour his oath. Should we commend him for being an oathbreaker, or a man who wears his honour like his armor and furs? These children may be foolhardy, but they have more sense than us. I say, let's show these cocksuckers what it means to cross them!" Thaddeus cried out!

Suddenly, everyone was cheering and agreeing with him. Tom, Lem, Harwin, Anguy, Lyman and the rest of the freed Northmen.

**Robb**

It kept perturbing him; the dreams. They seemed to feel stronger and appeared more often as they were coming close to the Twins. The clanging and clashing of drums and blades, dying war cries, the pained howling of his wolf. He even may have heard something like Jeyne's pained screams.

Still, the terms that the Freys had presented them for him breaking his word were a bit reasonable. But a triple wedding was incredibly weird. His mother had told him of the double wedding that occurred in Riverrun during Robert's Rebellion; her to his father and his aunt Lysa to his uncle Denys.

Edmure had been reluctant to take on a Frey wife but ultimately agreed. His cousin Caspor was still fostering in Runestone and betrothed to Ysilla Royce; it'd be too much to ask him to break his betrothal because of my mistake. Sebaston readily agreed, simply stating; "A stoat is a stoat is a stoat. I hope my stoat wife won't kill me knowing our children would never inherit Riverrun". He had been content with being the third son of his family and did not want to marry at all but still agreed. He probably found something amusing in it. Ser Brynden the Blackfish said that Sebaston reminded him of himself for his refusal to marry.

The most strangest thing was how they wanted his great-uncle Brynden's bastard, Selwyn Rivers to marry. Sure, he is a noble bastard, as his mother was a Ryger or a Hawick or a Terrick, or a Mooton, but it may have been the name itself that the Frey's were drawn to. The Bastard of the Blackfish.

Just as they were close to being at the Twins, Richard Flint came into his tent.

"My king, well, mayhaps it is now my lord, I guess ..."

"Out with it, Richard. What is it?"

"It's a message from Prince Robard and his party. On the behest of his father, ... King Stannis Baratheon"

Stannis? King? Prince? What had happened? Did he not take notice as to what had been happening?

As he came out of his tent, he took note of Prince Robard. He looked the same as he saw him back at Winterfell. His hair has now a bit longer, touching his shoulder, growing wisps of a beard, and looked more broader and built than before. He was wearing a crown of gold crusted with rubies and black diamonds which fit his head perfectly. He carried the crown with such grace that it made the circlet of hammered bronze around his head look like nothing but a ruined rusty blade.

"Lord Robard baratheon. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he said.

"You're addressing his grace, Prince Robard, heir to the Seven Kingdoms" a young man with flaxen hair and sea-green eyes with a crossed spiked mace and a silver dagger on his doublet.

"And you are addressing His Grace, Robb Stark. King of the North and the Trident." Richard retorted.

"I heard that he's the King who Lost the North." said a homely and stout man with a fox head in a fiery heart on his doublet.

"Silence, Ser Axell!" Robard said. "We should burn him and all the North down, my prince! All these heathens worshiping their false gods and their false king!" Ser Axell said.

"Insult our gods again, I can assure you that you'll see that fire god you all claim to love so much!" Owen Norrey growled out.

"The Lord of Light is the one true god!" said the prince's brother, Armond. He seemed so much older than before; grey hairs around his large mane of hair and beard.

"ENOUGH! ALL OF YOU! We came here to treat with Robb Stark, King of the North and the Trident. Not quarrel like children!" Robard said. The newly-made prince then began to tell him on what had happened in King's Landing. The mass assault lead by Randyll Tarly and Stannis. Tywin Lannister's and Joffrey Baratheon's injuries and imprisonment. The worst he had heard about was his cousin Osbert.

"He's going to be alright, right?" he asked, feeling like a little boy waiting for a scolding from his parents.

"Osbert will be fine. His assailant is recovering as well so that we may question him. He had been appointed as part of his personal guard"

"Fucking craven"

"I ask of you to formally submit your crown. We have grievously underestimated the North. And we need the North and riverlands back into the fold."

"Alright then."

"... You've made this remarkably more easier than expected. I had been expecting more resistance."

"I never asked nor wanted to be king. All I ever wanted was to be a good, just and honourable man like my father. Rule the North as he did. A crown may grant you power but it does not keep you safe. I don't want any more of my people's blood spilled on to the ground" he said. "I will submit. But first, let us enjoy my uncle's weddings"

* * *

**Jon  
**

The triple wedding of the Tully lord and Frey maids had gone off without a hitch. Ser Edmure wed to Lady Roslin, Ser Sebaston the Swordfish to Lady Arywn, and Ser Selwyn Rivers to Fair Walda Frey. Robb seemed to have accepted Walder Frey's punishment, but he knew that it was far from over.

Walder Frey had forgiven him, but he knew that his words were false. He looked over to Roose Bolton, who was seated next to Lady Catelyn, and knew that he was wearing chainmail underneath his clothes. He then looked to Domeric, who looked a bit uncomfortable about this, but he could not let his lord father betray Robb and would not abide by it. They had all planned this moment very carefully, very meticulously. If all else fails, then they would bring the Twins down no matter what.

Finally, the bedding ceremony came. Each bride and room were stripped of their clothes, and carried off to their respective chambers. The doors to the dining hall were then closed.

From his place at the head of the table, Walder Frey began to speak at the King of the North as he stood before him. "Forgive me for now showing you the hospitality that you so rightfully **deserve**."

Moments later, the musicians began to play; several people then began to look up as they began to play The Rains of Castamere.

**And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?**

Tom and Domeric's voices were strong and clear, and they carried not only throughout the dining hall, but also throughout the camps through the open windows. The signal was given. The attack had begun.

**Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know.**

* * *

**Raynald**

He did not mind looking after Grey Wind. Raynald was quite fond of the wolf really. He at least wishes that his sister would have been able to come, but Robb insisted that she remain in Riverrun.

Perhaps Jeyne may have been envious as this wedding would be the one she had imagined for herself. According to her, they married hurriedly albeit happily. He was a good man, the King in the North.

Suddenly, Grey Wind began to whine lowly. "What's the matter?" he asked the direwolf playfully. Suddenly, he began to hear a heavy clash of metal within the castle walls. _What the hell was going on?_

Grey Wind began to try to gnaw at his chains and growl menacingly. "Ser Raynald! Ser Raynald!" someone shouted. Two people then approached him. He recognised them as having been part of Robb's retinue when he had taken the Crag. "I'm Ser Perwyn, this is my brother, Olyvar. We're here to help you; help the king" said the neatly-combed man. From what he had heard about the Freys, they were weasley in appearance and had beady rat-like eyes. Ser Perwyn and Olyvar were quite comely: dark brown hair, decent postured and fairly handsome faces with button noses and slightly pointed chins.

"What is it?" he asked. "I-We should not even be here. Our lord father insisted on it. But we can't let this happen! He'll damn us all!" Olyvar nearly shouted. He then looked to the castle and heard the clashing and clanging again.

"That's what your lord father had planned?" he said, pointing to the castle entrance. "Yes. He said he wanted to make Stark sound like the bitchy wolf pup he truly is. Had us removed because we're more loyal to him." Perwyn said.

He realized what he needed to do. "C'mon, go save your master" Raynald said, removing the chains around the direwolf; charging into the castle. Suddenly, he heard a crossbow bolt swish past him.

"TRAITORS!'

"And what does that make you, Garse?" Perwyn said, unsheathing his sword. Olyvar then took out his and began to mock the other person. "You look well, Tytos"

"Fuck you, traitor!"

Suddenly, everything was a flurry of blades, mace, axes, lances and arrows.

He suddenly felt the sting of an arrow piercing his arm.

"Time to break a seashell. They'll call me Hosteen the Breaker! Hosteen the Slayer! The - "

"Then does that make me the Slayer of Shit?" said the taunting voice of Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish. His sword piercing through the large Frey man. He felt a great deal of courage and a certain giddiness in fighting with Ser Brynden Blackfish.

"PERWYN! NO!" Olyvar cried out. There was no hiding the terror in Olyvar's scream, his anguish breaking through the sounds of battle. He quickly turned to see the young warrior was on the ground, scrambling to his feet while his elder brother stood above him in protective way. Ser Perwyn's body filled with arrows and bolts, falling into the river.

"NO!" Olyvar stabbed upwards and into the groin of the killer. "Bastard! You bastards!"

Suddenly, he saw a great herd of wolves run to them. But not to them, but to the Frey and Bolton party that was attacking them. Biting, ripping, sinking their teeth into each soldier as if they were simply large tasty meals that they hadn't had in a long time.

He then saw a large direwolf heading into the castle. Raynald then realized what it was and what was happening. It was part of Grey Wind; a part of Robb.

A pack was being reunited.

**Robb**

Inside the dining hall, the battle between himself and Roose Bolton continued in the midst of the chaos surrounding them. Walder Frey had retreated once the battle had went south, being carried off by two of his men.

He had scarcely believed what had happened. The Frey's breaking guest right and the assault. What he could not believe was Jon, Arya, Domeric and many men among them, which included several northmen he saw captured coming to save him. Arya looked so much like the warrior-queen she wanted to be as she fought with a skinny sword strapped to her side and a bow and arrows. Jon looked true and fierce as he struck down many; like a true Stark.

Ghost and Nymeria coming as they did, ripping and mauling the limbs of these traitors. Even the prince of the Seven Kingdoms helping him and his men.

Reinforcements from the Freys and the remaining Bolton bannermen who managed to survive the sneak attack came rushing into the dining hall to provide aid to the Lord of Dreadfort and the Lord of the Crossing, but were felled by Ser Axell Florent and his volley of crossbow bolts. Grey Wind joined in defending his master against the Freys, ripping out throats and mauling limbs.

When the bolts were exhausted, they switched over to longbows, as they could fire arrows off even faster. Roose had the experience in both swordplay and tactics, but as his father was the late Eddard Stark, Robb was holding his own. Add the fact that his uncle was the legendary Brynden the Blackfish, Robb was matching the Lord of Leeches blow-for-blow.

The two men locked blades. "You're doing well, boy," complimented Roose. "And here, I thought you'd be dead by now." He broke off. "But not good enough. Winterfell will soon be mine."

"Over my dead body!" snarled Robb.

"That can easily be arranged," Roose replied.

The battle between the Lord of the Dreadfort and the King of the North had taken place all over the dining hall, Roose throwing Frey bannermen at the young warrior, and Robb cutting them down without missing a beat. The battle between the two men slowly degenerated into a brawl, with Roose attempting to rally back from Robb's vicious barrage.

Robb saw an opportunity when Roose tried to slug him with his free hand. Using a technique which his uncle Sebaston had taught him, he grabbed Roose's fist, and twisted him over in an arm-lock, and raised his sword, ready to cleave into Roose's neck and end the threat once and for all.

He screamed as he felt the crossbow bolt impale itself into his shoulder, fired by a Frey marksman, causing him to release both his sword and Roose Bolton, who quickly took advantage. He kicked the Lord of Winterfell to the floor.

"You fought well, boy," complimented Roose. "But it's over for you." The Leech Lord readied his sword to deliver the death blow. "The Lannisters send their regards."

"NO!" Cat screamed. Time seem to stop. Instead of running through him with his sword, Roose had ran his mother through instead when she had stepped in between the two fighting men.

The pale lord was shocked, as he did not expect Catelyn Stark, of all people, to sacrifice herself for her son. Roose pulled the sword out of her, who stumbled back several steps, before falling to the floor.

Robb watched his mother fall, having taken the blow for him. He watched her fall. Then his eyes fell upon Roose, his sword stained with his mother's blood. Robb saw red as he retrieved his sword and once again charged at the older man, his fury unleashed, ignoring the pain in his shoulder from the crossbow bolt. The Head of House Bolton was forced back from the onslaught. Roose tripped over an overturned chair, causing him to fall on his rear, giving Robb the advantage.

One vicious overhead strike had knocked Roose's sword from his hand. That was followed by Robb running Roose through his shoulder, disabling his shoulder.

"Wait!" Roose shouted, holding his good hand up in an attempt to stave off his impending death. "Mercy! I yield!"

His own response to that was to lop off his other hand. The sudden scream of the Leech Lord seemed to please the wolf inside of him. Suddenly, an arrow launched into his other shoulder. He then saw the perpetrator, his son: Domeric Bolton.

"You betray me, conspired with the Freys and became the Lion's whore. You stabbed my mother, and have the gall to ask for mercy?!" Robb snarled, the battle fever evident in his eyes as he raised his sword again, this time poised to take Roose's own head.

"My father sends his regards," Robb said as he brought his blade down.

"NO-" Roose Bolton's head was liberated from his body.

Robb then dropped the sword and rushed back to his mother. Without saying a word, he picked her up bridal-style and carried her out of the dining hall, leaving his personal guard and the Brotherhood to mop up any remaining Freys.

Robb had carried his mother over to one of the tents which served as a triage for the wounded. A maester from Prince Robard's party had been brought to the tent to tend to her. His mother was trying so hard to not cough up blood; trying not to appear in pain. The maester had then told him that Roose's sword had punctured a lung, the wound mortal.

"There's nothing I can do, my lord. I'm sorry." the maester said. Robb crouched down and took her hand. "Mother..."

"It's okay," Cat whispered. "You can't die. Not yet. It's not yet your time."

Jon and Arya had come and moved over to the other side and she grasped her mother's hand. "Mother..."

Cat smiled weakly, despite the pain. "My little wild child. The gods are good. I finally got to see you one last time. It's okay, Arya. At least now, I get to see your father again."

She then turned her head to Jon "Jon. I'm sorry for never treating you with the respect you deserved. You may not have been my family, but you were part of Ned's family. I should have treated you better. Watch over them for me"

"I will, my lady" Jon replied.

Cat gritted her teeth as the pain became unbearable. Jon promptly left her side.

"Milk of the poppy," the maester said as he came back. "The only thing I can do is to ease her pain."

Robb nodded. "Please...I can't watch her suffer any longer." The maester uncorked the bottle and raised it to her lips. Without hesitation, Cat downed the entire vial. Her last words were a whisper. "Thank you." And with that, she closed her eyes. It looked like she was just sleeping instead of dead.

He then saw a large, heavily scarred red-haired man with a silver trout in a fiery heart on his doublet, approach the tent. Robb had heard the tells of this man. His victories at Robert's Rebellion. How he had been sent to bring the Mountain to justice. This was his lord uncle, Thaddeus Tully, the Terror of the Trident.

"Cat? Cat? CAT?!" he shouted, visibly distraught by the sight of his dead mother. "She's gone" he muttered.

"NO! NO! NO, she is not gone! THOROS! THOROS!" his uncle shouted. A man with bright red robes then came into the tent.

"Please! You have to save her! Do something. Anything!" he shouted relentlessly.

"There is not much I can do for her" the man said grimly. "What about what you have done for me?! Surely you can bring her back like you did me?!" his uncle said frantically. Bring her back? Just what was he talking about.

"Her flame has been extinguished. It may not be restored as your's and Beric's wa -"

Suddenly, his uncle crouched to the body of his mother. "Lord cast your light upon this woman. Your servant. Bring her back from death and darkness. Her fire has been extinguished, restore it." He continued this strange prayer. Robb wasn't listening; he was looking at his mother's face. Then he saw Lord Thaddeus Tully lower his head and place a small kiss on his mother's lips.

After the kiss, his uncle stared down at his mother's corpse. Seconds passed, then minutes and then what felt like years to Robb. But then finally his mother's body lurched up and he inhaled a large gulp of air. Before falling back to the ground. Her color was slowly returning and she was breathing slowly.

"Cat ..." his uncle breathed out faintly.

"Thad ... Is ... that truly you?" she breathed out slowly. The man, Thoros, looked shocked to his very core.

"Yes. It's me, little Cat. It's me" he said, tears streaming down his face. "I promised to always protect you, remember?"

Suddenly, his lord uncle's face was beginning to lose much of its color. "T-Tell m-m-my children, my la-lady wife. I lo-lo-lo-love th-them" he said, breathing raggedly. Robb immediately that as his uncle's face was beginning to lose its colour, his mother's was regaining it. His uncle then coughed out a small amount of blood, and leaving a ghost of a smile on his lips.


	26. Chapter 26

**Robard**

Massacre. Murder. Horror.

Those were the only words he could think of. It was obvious that Robb Stark did not know about this. He had heard that he had taken a Westerling as a bride instead of a Frey as he had swore. He could not reprimand the former King in the North for what he had done. From what he had learned and heard, he had done it to preserve her honour after having bedded her. Ordinary men would have simply left her behind; let her carry the bastard that formed from their coupling. But Robb Stark was not most men; for he was a Stark and the Starks have honour. But the honour of a Stark had nearly gotten everyone inside of the Twins killed.

Many of his own men died. He certainly wouldn't miss Axell Florent but he did serve loyally. The last person brought to him strung a large deal of terror in his heart.

Armond. He looked so content. Peaceful. His foolhardy brother welcomed death into open arms; like hugging an old friend. He had sent a raven to his father informing him of the situation and promised to enact the King's Justice to the best and fullest extent.

How was he going to tell his nephews? Axel, Rolland, Willam. They were much too young to deal with death.

His brother clearly welcomed it. His sons clearly won't

**Robb**

He felt the grimace he had been making. The only thing that had been on his in the night was not simply the massacre, but the miracle that had happened. His mother had miraculously came back from death. But something seemed a bit different about her. It was fairly agreeable that she was grieving her brother. But it was a different kind of look; like a part of her was missing.

Edmure, Sebaston and Brynden Tully and the Greatjon approached him. The look on his face was all for the Greatjon, and the Tully men needed to know. Grey Wind, Ghost and Nymeria both whined, then let out a howl.

"Milord!" one of the bannermen approached the scowling former King of the North. "We have captured the remaining members of House Frey. What would you want to do with them?"

"Is Walder Frey with them?" Robb asked, his voice emotionless.

"Yes, Milord."

Robb's voice felt as ice-cold as his father's when he dealt with criminals and deserters of the Night's Watch. "Bring him here. Now."

The bannerman rushed off to obey. Within minutes, he and another bannerman returned, dragging the Lord of the Crossing, as his gout was so bad that he could not walk unassisted. The bannermen unceremoniously dumped him in front of him. Surrounded by the North's forces, Walder knew that he was finished.

"Look at you," the Blackfish taunted. "Not so cocky now that your bannermen has been put to the sword, aren't you? You wouldn't have the balls to pull such a feat if you didn't have Tywin Lannister backing you up."

In great pain, the Late Walder Frey managed to get to his knees. "Milord, please...spare me!" Lord Frey begged. "I promise you on my honor that my house will forever serve you and House Tully. Mercy, good King! For my family!"

That made the Greatjon and the other men laugh, to see Walder Frey, who was looking so smug moments earlier, thinking that he had lured Robb and his forces to their doom, begging for his life.

"Honor?" Robb repeated, his voice tinged with fury, kicking the man to the ground. "You have shit for honor! Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister have shit for honor! Many good men, honest, loyal men have died because of what you three had planned! Your house is now cursed for breaking the guest right!"

"Yes, I conspired with Bolton and the Lannisters! That I confess! For that, I am sorry! Mercy, Lord Robb!"

"Oh yes, I know," replied Robb. "I know that you are sorry." He then reached over and took Edmure's sword. "But let us pretend that you are not! Hold him down!"

"NO!" Walder half-screamed, half-sobbed as two of the bannermen held him down.

Robb placed the blade against Walder's neck. "You are going to get a first-hand experience in Northern justice. The man who passes sentence is the one who also wields the sword. I, Robb of House Stark, do sentence you to death for the crime of treason and murder," Robb declared. "The words of your house is 'We Take Our Tolls.' You will pay in blood."

Mustering any remaining strength, Robb raised his sword and with a cry of anger mixed with sadness, took Walder Frey's head.

Before heading back to the tent with Walder's severed head, he gave the Greatjon and the Blackfish one final order. "We don't forget, nor do we forgive. Winter has come for House Frey. Kill them all. They were in on this. They did not warn us. They betrayed and tried to kill us. Kill them all."

"No, you won't" said the voice of Prince Robard. One of his arms was in a sling. A small party of men was around him.

"What do you mean, no? You gonna spare him, you southron shit!" the GreatJon growled at the man.

"That's your prince you're speaking too" said the man. "SILENCE! Both of you!" Robard said.

"Ser Edmure, was your lady wife a part of this massacre? Or your wife, Ser Sebaston?" he asked the Tully brothers. "No. Roslin knew about it. But there was not much she could do. Nor is she responsible" Edmure said sadly; having already grown fond of his wife. "Arywn knew. She knew." Sebaston said grimly at the mention of his wife.

"Bastard or not, I wouldn't let my boy marry any spawn from that traitorous whoreson!" Brynden Blackfish snarled. "I have a way to appease you all. How many fighting men are left among the Frey and Bolton parties?" he asked.

"About 2000"

"The soldiers and the eldest who had knowingly took part in this ... Red Wedding ... will be escorted to the Wall led by party consisting of your men and mine own, lead by the new Lord of the Dreadfort. The youngest males will take the names of their mothers and join that house in an effort to create heirs. We don't want anymore bloodshed. And the women will be either married off to whatever lord will have them or take places as septas or Silent Sisters."

"Thus ending House Frey. But there will be no Lord of the Crossing."

"No. There will be. Ser Selwyn will serve as its castellan for now. And then as Lord Selwyn Riverswyft of the Crossing once we return to the Capital to ensure you have shown fealty to me and my father"

He then looked to his brooding, stocky uncle who readily nodded. "Done"

**Arya**

She could not believe it. She had felt giddy with happiness. Not only was she by the side of her brothers once again, but she had been reunited with her old friend. She had been certain that Nymeria would have forgotten her. She spent a large deal of time simply nuzzling against her.

Arya had been wondering around the castle. She had already heard that her uncle Selwyn was now Lord Selwyn Riverswyft of the Crossing. He already bore a symbol. It was nothing extravagant. it was a black fish leaping over two black towers united by a bridge on silver-grey in a field of scarlet. She had even heart that Edrick had been formally knighted by Beric Dondarrion for his bravery. He had been blushing and raving furiously on how he would make the previous Sword of the Morning proud of him.

She then heard the familiar sound of steel singing. Colen.

He was standing and looking taller than before. His piercing emerald green eyes staring emptily at her now. "M'lady" he said gruffly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Ser Selwyn needs some armor mended. Most of the Brotherhood decided to stay here anyway" he said, turning back to his work.

"You're staying here?" she asked. He immediately nodded. "What about going to Dorne an - "

"What? Serving Lord Ned? Or you? I belonged to the Brotherhood and that's where I'm staying. Here. With them"

"Why? Why would you want to stay here though? You can at least have the decency to answer me, Colen" she said. The young lad just barely a year older than her then looked at her again, more fiercely.

"I served old master Mott back in King's Landing, and he gone off and sold me to the Night's Watch. I served the Leech Lord and Tywin Lannister, and wondered each day if this would be the day I'd get tortured or killed. I never wanted to serve again, ... til the Brotherhood without Banners came. When Lord Beric knighted me, I finally had something. Something other than what I tried to make or steal: a name. Ser Colen of the hollow hill; Ser Colen the Goat. These men ... these men are brothers. Family. I ... I never had a family before"

Stupid. How can he be so stupid?! "What about us? Jon, Ned, me. We can be your family." He then gave that same empty look from before. "You wouldn't be my family. You'd just be milady"

She then left in a huff.

* * *

**Jeyne**

Lord Thaddeus Tully's body was cremated along with those who had died defending her husband, her king. Ser Sebaston had launched the arrow and set it aflame. Robb stood by her side with his brother and sister nearby, his expression blank, but his eyes showed nothing but anger, frustration and confusion as the funeral pyre erupted in flames.

"He was a good lad. I remember when he asked me to be my squire. We traveled around the riverlands and the reach, and he was knighted by me after saving Ser Alester Florent and his daughter both from brigands. When he came back to Riverrun, he was already in love and expecting his own heir. When he went to save his father in the Battle of the Bells; he did it more to his sense of family rather than duty. He often thought more with his heart than his head, but that's what made him a good lord. A good son. And a good father" Ser Brynden said.

She then turned to Lady Catelyn. "Lady Stark. I am very sorry for what has happened to your brother. I cannot imagine that pain" she said. "I hope you don't" she said. But she did almost lose Raynald in that bloody battle, the Red Wedding they were now calling it. Something seemed strange about her. Sure, she had been initially hesitant toward her because of Robb's promise to the Freys. Lady Roslin Tully would have been Lady Roslin Stark had it not been for her. Robb had tried to convince her not to blame herself for the Red Wedding. But the fact remained that it was incontestably her involvement which had driven the elderly Lord Walder to such bloodstained extremes.

Their attraction had bloomed quickly, conducted at first only in shy touches and tender glances. He was a young man, she was a young woman. Neither of them were uncomely. He had been hurt, she cared for him, and the forbidden nature of it appealed to both of them, children that they still were. Even in the face of her mother's first, relentless disapproval, Jeyne could not have cared less. She lived for the hours she could sneak away to spend with Robb, fussing over him when he no longer needed fussing, trying to decide if she should act mature and worldly or innocent and sweet, and finally only able to act like herself. The shameful truth was that even if she had, she wouldn't have cared. The nameless daughter was far away in the Twins, and she was here, she was with him, and their naive young love would prevail over every obstacle.

Then that night had happened. Robb had learned of the betrayal of his friend, Theon Greyjoy, the heir of the Iron Islands. Robb was unable to speak, so great was his agony. She had only meant to comfort him, truly. But from the moment she had sat down beside him and put her arms around him, and he had turned to her with savage unthinking need and crushed his mouth to hers, they had both known that this was something different, that there was no going back. Soon her hands were beneath his tunic and his were on her breasts, gently kissing the top of them, and he pulled her down beneath him to the bed. She had given him her maidenhead that night, and gladly. The blood on the sheets had only been its seal; she could never have known how much more blood it portended. They drifted off to sleep, naked and entangled, her hair loose and entangled and his arms tight around her. But when they woke in the cold light of morning the dream was over, and he was his father's son again, aghast and shamed about what he had done. Grim and solemn, he told her that he would have never dishonored her that way if he had been in his wits, and offered, if it was her will, to marry her at once.

As for Lord Walder, well, he was the Late Lord Walder after all. If he hadn't been so perfidious and untrustworthy in his earlier days, mayhaps he wouldn't have had so much trouble marrying his children off. The ancient sinewy lord let his alleged damaged pride drive all of this. He is more than responsible for so many, so much blood flooding the Trident. She honestly could not find herself to live in a world without Robb.

**Daven**

Prince. He was now Prince Daven Baratheon. It was strange. But it felt fitting as he was with his father's council. He did feel saddened for Ser Davos. Dale, Allard, Steffon, Devan. Boys he had known all of his life. He knew that being named Hand of the King and Lord of the Rainwood would not fill that void of sadness. One thing was certain that he was glad for was his father's agreement to not only spare Tommen but making him Lord of Casterly Rock. A ploy to control the West, but a good plan nonetheless.

"Tyrek Lannister! Step forward!"

Tyrek then stood before the crown, looking quite nervous. "In your betrayal to your family, you served your rightful king." Ser Davos cried out.

"In all respect, Ser. I did not do it out of duty to my king. I did it for myself mostly. And to avenge Prince Gendry. He had been a good friend of mine. And I do not have a great love for my family, neither" Tyrek said.

"Nevertheless, you done him a great service. For that, King Stannis has decided to award you a knighthood, and a small keep of your choosing in the Westerlands" Ser Davos said.

"Ser Edric Storm! Step forward!"

Edric came upon the throne looking rather proud with Sansa holding his hand. They both looked very happy.

"Edric Storm. During the brief reign of King Renly, he had appointed you his heir. Before that, you had been named Edric Florent in his proclamation"

"He did so, my lord. But I'm not a Ser."

"With the death of Lord Alester of Brightwater Keep, his son Jon Florent is now Lord Jon Florent. In act of your service to your king, for your bravery, King Stannis has awarded you a knighthood."

"My lord. Your Grace. I know that I am in no position to ask this of you, but I'd like to ask you to make me a Florent." Daven had not been surprised to say the least. He had seen the looks of love and affection they gave one another. His cousin, Ser Andrew Estermont of his father's kingsguard gave Edric a rather worrisome look.

"You ask to much of your king!" someone shouted.

"Lord Jon Florent has not yet wed. And from what I've heard from the last raven, his heir Ser Axell, is dead. And from what I've gathered, you've wed the Stark girl. I will grant you your request. Kneel before me, and rise again as Ser Edric Florent of Brightwater Keep."

"Thank you! Thank you, my king!" Edric said, now bearing a cheeky smile on his face. He then saw his father grimace a bit. He always had a bit of an abhorrence toward Edric. He knew he felt slighted when King Robert had dishonoured Lady Selyse on their wedding bed and laughed it off. Mayhaps he felt more slighted at the fact that they were both born on the same day. But it was never that. What bothered his father about Edric was his admiration of King Robert, and how alike they seemed to be. He didn't really see that in Edric. With the exception of the Florent ears, he was the near spitting image of King Robert. He was fierce and proud like the Baratheons, but had the soul of courtesy.

* * *

Daven walked toward Osbert's chambers. He had heard that Lord Robb Stark had been successful in his endeavors and had agreed to bend the knee to his father. As he entered his chambers, he looked to the Falcon Knight. He looked a bit disheveled but had a faint smile on his face.

"Osbert. How ya doin', mate?"

"I've been fine, really. I can't really complain."

"We've received word from the King in the North, your cousin, Robb Stark. He's agreed to bend the knee to my father"

"That's all well and done then. I know Robb to be pretty stubborn, but he's a good person. Where's Raymont?"

"Last I heard, he's going to see his wife"

"His wife?"

"He agreed to a betrothal to Lady Barbara Bracken. And from what I've heard about the Riverlands, Robb's a very lucky person"

"I did hear. I was fostered there, squiring for my uncle Blackfish. He always told me that the Frey's were cravens, but I never thought they would go that far. I know Robb broke his oath and slighted him but..."

"I know. It's heinous. Absolutely heinous. Well, I'm off to see Joffrey" he said, as he walked to the door. Edric was waiting by with a sword by his side, looking serious.

"W-Why you goin' to see him for?" Osbert said. "We have some business with him" Auric replied cooly.

Edric and him then began to walk to the Black Cells. Although not official Kingsguard, Ser Andrew Estermont and Ser Rolland Storm accompanied them. He and his father had not gotten to how to get rid of the previous Kingsguard who are still loyal to Cersei. Meryn Trant, Osmund Kettleblack and the Kingslayer. It may not be ideal and ridiculous, but perhaps they could host a tourney to see the prowess of many eager knights. See who is worthy.

He then looked to Joffrey. Daven always thought that he was pathetic, but now he was a true pathetic sight. His blonde curly hair looked to be caked in dirt and grime. His dry chapped lips looked like two slimy worms enveloping one another. His beautiful green eyes were now bloodshot and filled with fear and panic as he looked up at had been sobbing and gargled words coming out of his mouth, and he was curled up in a corner still in his princely clothes now all filthy and foul. He then started to shake uncontrollably moving his head side to side, "No don't hurt me, I am king, kings don't get punished, you'll be punished. No NO NOOOOO! Leave me alone, I order you I am** your king**," he whimpered, moving closer to the wall.

"Joffery no one is going to hurt you,"

"No, No, I am king, I don't get punished. Finger ... birds. Idea. All his. King. King. "

"What in the bloody seven hells is he talking about?" Edric said, looking confused from the gibberish Joffrey spattered. I don't know.

"Simply leave my son be!" he heard a high-pitched shriek. He left the cell and quickly went into Cersei's."Wow what an honour, the prince has come to my chambers, what's the special occasion," sneered Cersei sarcastically.

"Cersei, don't take that tone with me. I came here because of Joffery and to offer you a deal to save his sanity."

"Not his life?" she begged.

"His life was forfeit the moment you said he had a claim to the throne."

"NO! He is my son. He is a lion, and a lion does not bow to lesser beings!"

"Really? The mighty Lord Tywin is also currently rotting in the black cells, along with you and your foul get. Futhermore, you've just admitted that to your crimes"

"Then hear me and bear witness to this. Me and my son are innocent, and he is rightful. I shall do this for him. As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, I call for a trial by the Seven!"

_**So, left off on a pretty strong note I think. Guest, I demand you reveal yourself, lOl. We will be seeing Jaime in the next chapter. And I would just to establish that I did not simply create my OCs to simply be killed off. Armond died due to his foolhardiness and his fervent belief in Rh'llor. Frankly, he would have died one way or another.**_


	27. Chapter 27

**_The Trial has begun!_**

_**Staniel: to answer your question, Ashara did not rape Ned. Well, not exactly. Both of them were feeling a flurry of emotions and Ashara was deeply upset that Ned was married to a woman that was not her, having to fulfill the Stark-Tully betrothal and the fact that Arthur was supposedly slain by Ned. It was a moment of weakness for both of them. **_

**Jaime**

King's Landing. In spite of everything he'd been through, he made it. He still felt it, but he had heard many times from older men in Lannisport than when men lose a foot or a finger, they have an itch from where it used to be. This was more than just his sword hand. This was the hand he used to greet Addam Marbrand with. The hand he used to stroke away the tears of his baby brother's face. The hand he used to touch his sister, Cersei. The hand he used to push down the Stark boy off that tower.

He always said that he felt alive when fighting or fucking. Now, he felt as if he could do none of those things. When he did either one of those things, he felt as invincible as the Warrior. Like a god. Now, he was little more than a corpse.

Suddenly, three to five gold cloaks approached him and Brienne.  
"Halt! State your identities and any business you may have here!"

"I am Brienne of Tarth. I had been tasked by Lady Catelyn Stark to bring Ser Jaime Lannister back to King's Landing"  
"Right! If that's the Kingslayer, I must be fucking former Queen Cersei then!" one of the gold cloaks laughed.

His jaw tightened about that. He formed fists, well, a fist.

"Wait! I know that man. You, bring him closer!" a young blonde-haired Gold Cloak said, pointing to Brienne. "Ser, I - " "No harm will come to him, I promise you that much" he said. Brienne then brought him closer to the blonde-haired youth. The boy looked fairly familiar. Skinny but not immensely muscular, the beginnings of a beard, short but neatly kept golden curly hair, emerald green eyes. He was a Lannister, that much was certain, but he can't quite place him.

"I don't fucking believe it! You look like a mess Uncle Jaime!" his apparent Lannister nephew said. Now he remembered the boy. His hair was longer before when he squired for King Robert. "Tyrek? You've definitely grown!" he said, hugging his nephew. "We should take him to the black cells" one of the gold cloaks growled out. "No. First, we should bathe him and shave him."

After being bathed thoroughly and shaved off that messy thing he called a beard, he asked to be taken to his father. Quite a sight to behold. His once powerful looking father was now looking pale and frail. "Jaime." he uttered, before looking at his stump. "They've maimed you"

"I'm still here" he said. "These wolves think they can slay lions then they are wrong. The trial will prevail. King Joffrey will continue to sit on the Iron Throne and Stannis will burn in every hell for spreading those vicious lies" he snarled. Just how blind are you, father? Stannis will sit on the Iron Throne and he will surely kill us all. "Lannisters always pay there debts"

"Lannisters may always pay their debts, but the Starks of Winterfell endure. They never forgive or forget easily; they remember. Robb Stark has won before, and what makes you think that he won't win now?" His father then did something, something he never see him do in a long time. Tywin Lannister smiled.

* * *

**Robard**

A trial of seven is another form of trial by combat, old and rarely invoked, came the narrow sea with Andals and the seven gods. In any trial by combat, the accused and the accuser are asking the gods to decide the issue between them. The Andals believed seven champions fought on each side of the gods being so honored would be more willing to intervene and ensure that the fair result was achieved.

It was a foolish thing for Daven and Edric to go on and visit Joffrey, but it was more foolish for Cersei to call for the damn trial. She already had Osmund Kettleblack, Meryn Trant and Ilyn Payne on her side and had somehow gotten contact with several knights to act in the trial: Lyle Crakehall and a freerider named Lothor Brune. And Gregor Clegane is currently riding to the capital to fight, and from what he heard, Joffrey planned on fighting himself to press his claim.

"Who do we have to fight Joffrey the Illborn and his men?" said Randyll Tarly, the new master of laws. "Ser Richard Horpe and Loras Tyrell of the Kingsguard, the newly knighted Edric Storm, Raymont Arryn who recently came back, Robb Stark, and a knight in service of His Grace who calls himself the Silent Rider" Davos said. Silent Rider?

"I have no knight in my service named or referred as the Silent Rider, and I have no qualms" his father said, gritting his teeth slightly. "Nevertheless, he has pledged himself to your cause" Davos said. "My birds have sought to this man who calls himself the Silent Rider. He has not removed his helm but appears to be loyal to your cause, my king. He proudly wears the flaming heart of your fire god on his shield and says some sort of prayer before his fights" Varys said in his sweetly soft voice.

"Osbert Arryn was nearly killed by a hedge knight in his service. Foolishness. I will not condone this foolishness" his father said. "Of course, Your Grace. But with the trial coming close, it would be best that he remain in the retinue. Also, with word that Gregor Clegane is to take part in the trial, Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne announced he will be arriving in the capital shortly"

Oberyn Martell? Makes sense, considering that he blames Tywin Lannister for the death of his sister, Elia Martell. "Should we allow a Dornishmen to fight in the trial?" Paxter Redwyne, the new master of ships asked. "Anyone can take part in the trial. After Tywin's imprisonment, I sent word to Prince Doran informing him of the dispossession of Joffrey and assured him the justice of Elia Martell. Long overdue"

Smart decision. Not only to grant the Dornish the vengeance they craved but to mend relations with them as well. Their debt will be paid.

* * *

**Robb**

His sister was married. Not to his enemy, at least. Edric Florent was comely, Strong, strapping lad with jet-black hair. Lean figure, broad-shouldered. His ears a bit large though.

"I love him" she said strongly. "Sansa ..." His mother said. "I love him, I married him. He's not leaving nor am I" Sansa said. His mother then gave a light smile. Suddenly, Grey Wind perked up his head and began to look at Edric. The direwolf then gave a small growl and began to sniff the boy.

Edric suddenly grew nervous around the direwolf. Suddenly, he tentatively put his hand out palm down. Greywind sniffed the palm for a moment and then looked up into Edric's face. The direwolf's face twisted from side to side as if thinking something over. Then it reached forward and licked her hand.

"Look's like he likes me" Edric smiled. "Foxes and wolves are not that different. I wanted to know if you were serious" Robb said. "Serious? Serious about what?" Sansa asked. Oh, fuck.

"I am going to take part in the trial." Edric said, his face looking downtrodden. "You promised. You promised you weren't going to put yourself in danger!" Sansa screamed then slapped him across the face loudly. "Sansa ..."

"No"  
"He was my brother. I have to do this!"  
"No" Sansa then ran off in tears.

* * *

Joffrey Baratheon led the way, helm in hand, his steel plate chased with gold as bright as the mane of hair which fell down to his shoulders. His still bearing the counter-charged stag and lion. Yet there was little mirth on the dispossessed prince's face as he looked to his mother in the stands.

Gregor Clegane followed after, helm in hand, his face grim. Ser Lyle Crakehall had a strong and powerful bearing as well as a reputation for being one of the greatest warriors in the Westerlands, if not the realm. Meryn Trant rode beside Ser Lothor Brune, a distinguished tourney knight who had been recruited. Gold had easily Ser Osmund Kettleblack to join the queen's cause. Illyn Payne wore a simple armor which appeared to be made of a simple leather jerkin and plating.

Robb Stark and Edric Florent came on first, their postures perfect and faces grim as they stared at the foe. The knight Richard Horpe had offered his blade to Robb and Raymont easily had his allegiance. Oberyn Martell then came out riding a black stallion with a tail the color of fire. The Dornish Prince was wearing a pale red silk cloak and a shirt armored with overlapping discs of bright copper. His helm adorned with a copper sun and a steel round shield in the Dornish style that is decorated with the sigil of House Martell. The Silent Rider appeared soon after, flanked by Loras and Richard, and armored in dark scale armor. It was a stark contrast to Loras, who already wore his helm and whose white cloak flapped in the breeze, as pristine as snow. But it quickly became clear that the Silent Rider was the second son of Stannis. His Baratheon blue eyes piercing through Joffrey and his cronies. His jet-black hair being swept by the wind made him look like some heroic knight in stories.

"This trial by combat shall be decided by the last remaining warrior standing! If his cause is righteous, the verdict will be clear to all! The battle can only be ended thusly! Unless the accuser retracts his charges after being shown the wisdom of the Seven themselves. My lords, my ladies. We are gathered here, in the sight of gods and men, to determine the guilt or innocence of this ... king, Joffrey of the Houses Lannister and Baratheon. May the Father judge the justice of these combatants' claims. May the Mother grant her mercy to the deserving. May the Maiden defend the innocent of the one who deserves it. May the Warrior strengthen the arm of the champions whose cause is just. May the Smith guide the sword of the righteous. May the Crone grant the wisdom that will reveal the truth of the claims made here. And may the Stranger claim the one who is false."

It was slow at first, both sides moving to an amble before a trot. Then all fourteen dug in their spurs so that beast and rider lurched forward powerfully. The war lances lowered, shields hefted up, the distance between the two sides lessening.

Until there was no space. Lances struck and the sounds of wood splintering and metal crashing against metal filled the air.

Robb rode on by, his shattered lance being cast aside as Joffrey did the same with his. The rest of the fight came together in bits and pieces. Edric Florent and Osmund Kettleblack had been knocked off their horses, both drawing blades as Lyle Crakehall and Andrew Estermont dismounted to challenge their foes afoot. Illyn Payne and Richard Horpe had both broken lances and were now circling about on their horses, their swords ready to clash. Daven Baratheon and Lothor Brune were much the same. Oberyn Martell was in a bad way, favoring his shoulder as he led his horse to face the Mountain's coming attack.

Loras had already fallen off his horse from Meryn Trant's lance as did Raymont. The knight's lance was very much intact, and he began to lower it again and spurred his horse for another charge.

When Trant's target became clear everything slowed to a crawl.

Robb and Joffrey were battling, sword to sword. Ice caught the sunlight in such a way it was hard to look upon directly. None could miss it's beauty. Nor could Trant miss Robb as he charged on, lance aimed directly at his back.

"Robb!" Sansa screamed. "Robb behind you! Robb!"

Whether it was her cry or the countless others coming forth from the crowd she couldn't say, but Robb must have heard one. He looked behind to find Trant bearing down on him. There was no time for Robb to do anything but lift his shield to take the hit. Meryn's lance struck it with such force Robb was lifted up and out of his saddle. The splinters were still flying through the air as his armored form hit the ground with such a thud Greywind started beside Sansa.

"Coward!" Catelyn shouted, shaking a fist. "You cowardly fool Trant! Show some honor!" Jeyne suddenly sulked and held Catelyn's hand fiercely.

The knight showed the exact opposite as he pulled forth a morning star and set his horse to galloping right at Robb's prone form. The hooves of Meryn's war horse tore up the earth as they thundered towards Robb. The knight surely meant to trample him yet Robb suddenly jerked sideways, rolling across the ground and escaping the hooves.

Meryn swung around quickly, refusing to dismount as Joffrey did, and attacking Robb before he had fully gained his feet. The morningstar struck soundly against Robb's shoulder, metal crunching from the impact. Robb staggered some, holding Ice up in defiance as Joffrey and Meryn closed on him.

The Mountain was doing his best to try and dart around the Red Viper, clearly aiming to join the attack against Robb. Daven and Lothor were rolling across the ground, the two men using their mailed fists to batter each other. The duel between the Ilyn Payne and Richard Horpe was as pitched as the fight between Andrew Estermont and Lyle Crakehall

Osmund Kettleblack had met a fierce opponent in Edric and opted for an easier target for his blade. When Osmund slashed across the face of Edric's mount, Sansa screamed in shock as the horse did so in agony. The poor beast was still screaming when it fell, Edric leaping out of his saddle so that both landed upon the ground bellowing in rage. Rather than remaining to finish his opponent, Osmund kicked at his horse and charged right at a fight already underway.

Osmund rode at Robb and cut down viciously. Rather than taking Robb's head he tried to cleave off his helm, unsteadying him once more. Meryn struck again, swinging his morningstar in a powerful blow against Robb's helm.

The metal caved in to the side, the sound of it lost to the outrage of the spectators. Robb's legs went limp, his body collapsing downwards. The he way he clutched and leaned on Ice was the only thing that kept him from sprawling on the ground.

And still Meryn and Osmund prepared to come again.

Suddenly, Loras was back on his mount, and charged at Meryn with such speed, nearly knocking him off his horse. Like he was riding the wind.

"I promised your traitor sister that I'd cut off your head and give it to her as a gift." Joffrey said gleefully, raising his sword. "Any last words, Stark?!"

"AS HIGH AS HONOUR!" someone screamed out. Suddenly, an arrow flew right into Joffrey's shoulder. Raymont then notched an arrow into Ilyn Payne, allowing the Slayer to deliver the finishing blow.

Kettleblack suddenly charged right into Raymont, knocking him into the dirt once again. Meryn Trant and Loras Tyrell were circling one another until Loras did the same thing that Kettleblack did. Striking his lance right into the eye of Trant's horse. Suddenly bucking wildly, the horse threw Trant off, his neck snapping like a twig. Kettleblack then charged at the Knight of Flowers and began to hack at him.

Lothor nearly knocked out Daven when Horpe suddenly charged at him only to narrowly miss. Distracted, Daven then punched him square in the face, knocking him out. He then saw Osmund Kettleblack continuing to hack at the Knight of Flowers. Daven then grabbed a dirk from Lothor Brune and threw it directly at Osmund's face. The dirk was sticking out of his cheek, Osmund began to screech wildly. Loras quickly thrust his blade into the man's chest.

Joffrey's attention returned to Robb as he began to wildly swing at him. Suddenly, another arrow was launched into the former crown prince's body, but this time through one of his legs. Robb then turned his attention to see his new good-brother Edric Florent, now running toward them as he put the bow back into the quiver. Joffrey raised up what was left of his shield, only for Edric to knock it off with a swing of his sword. Robb suddenly thrust his blade into the former prince's chest. His emerald green eyes barely able to register what has happened to him. Robb suddenly leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, "Winter has come for you"

Daven, Horpe, and Oberyn were narrowly avoiding the Mountain's relentless attacks." _You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children_!" Oberyn kept crying out, wanting Tywin Lannnister's mad dog to admit his crime. Daven then grabbed a warhammer from the nearby body of the exhausted Strongboar's weapons belt. He then came behind the hulking man and swung the hammer with all his might at his helmet. The Mountain continued to swing, but wildly as the blow disoriented him. In his wild swings, he left the Slayer bleeding on to the ground.

Robb, Edric and Loras quickly came to the aid of the princes. The Mountain, now recovered from the attack, thrust his giant greatsword into the horse's head. Loras then flew off of the horse. Edric managed to knock off the Mountain's helm with a swing of his sword. Robb then slashed at the man's leg, causing him to kneel. The Red Viper then lunges and stabs him through his breastplate, causing Clegane to cough blood and fall on his back. The Prince of Dorne did not look happy in the slightest as he quickly punched them both hard. The other prince was desperately trying to catch his breath.

"Wait, are you dying? No, no, you can't die yet. You haven't confessed." he said, removing the spear from him. "Say it. Say her name. Elia Martell. You raped her, you killed her children. Elia Martell. Who gave you the order?! WHO GAVE YOU THE ORDER?! SAY HER NAME, YOU RAPER HER, YOU MURDERED HER, YOU KILLED HER CHILDREN!" the Red Viper cried out. Suddenly, the Mountain trips him and pulls him to the ground, grasping him around the neck and slamming his fist squarely into his face.

"Elia Martell" the Mountain growls out, as he placed his large hands into the Dornish Prince's face. "I killed her children. Then I raped her. Then I smashed her head in. Like this!" he cried out as he brutally crushed the man's skull. He then turned to Daven Baratheon who was clutching his sword tightly, muttering something. "Silent Rider, eh? You'll surely be silent as him" he said, pointing at the Red Viper's smashed-in head. He the placed his bloodied hand on to the blade, and suddenly, the blade burst into flames. The Mountain raised his sword, intending to cleave off his head. Daven countered by raising his own sword in his defense and the sliced off the Mountain's blade from its grip. The young prince suddenly leapt and plunged his sword into the Mountain's skull, setting his face aflame and the Mountain screaming in agony.

As the battle ended, the crowd of Northerners that accompanied their former king had begun to sing:

_When winter comes for war, You shall hear no Lions roar._

_ When winter forces you to yield, No Stags shall graze upon the field. _

_When winter creeps upon you from the shadows, No Roses shall bloom from the meadows._

_ When winter wreaks havoc on the land, You can bet there'll be no Snakes in the sand. _

_When winter brings to life all it finds grim, The Krakens will freeze where they swim. _

_When winter sets and the land begins to shiver, The Flayed Man will start to rot and wither. _

_When winter fights to the last sliver, No more Trouts shall swim in the river. _

_When winter ravages and all despair, No Falcons shall fly high in the air. _

_When winter shows you what happens when snow falls, Not even Dragons Breath shall warm you in your halls. _

_When winter comes with all it's might, Only the Wolves shall howl in the night!_


	28. Chapter 28

**Robb**

She no longer looks like that hateful graceful queen that sneered as she looked upon the gates of Winterfell. She already looked dead as that monstrosity that called for his father's death. It was strange in doing the execution publicly, in the same place his own father had died. But Stannis said that she should face her crimes along with her father

He was glad in receiving the honors of doing the actual killing, as he's a Stark and "he who passes the sentence swings the sword". She does nothing and says nothing. She simply stares down, knowing that she will die today. "Lannister's may pay their debts, but the North remembers. The Starks send their regards" Robb then raised up Ice and sliced her head off her body neatly.

Next came before him Tywin Lannister. His younger brother, Kevan had been spared so that he could properly lecture Tommen Lannister on what it means to be Lord of the Rock. No one could find the Kingslayer or the Imp either; the men had somehow escaped shortly after the trial. Tywin Lannister is standing, tall and proud, but not regally, as some honorable lord might.

Robb doesn't know what comes over him in that instant. _"And now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a so-o-ul to hear" _he suddenly sings out. The Old Lion of the West looks at him perplexed by the notion. "Any last words, Lannister?" he asks. Tywin Lannister says nothing. He lifts up Ice again and neatly slices off his head.

_It's over. It's finally over, _he thinks to himself. Suddenly, the Greatjon, the Blackfish and many others begin to clamor around Tywin's corpse. "Hehehehehehe. Looks like they were wrong my lord" the Greatjon giggled. "Who was wrong about what?" he asks.

The Blackfish then stands next to him and says, "In the end, Tywin Lannister didn't shit gold"

**Stannis**

He knelt before the High Septon in front of the Iron Throne. The gallery was filled and people lined the walls. Pews and benches had been brought in and they too were overcrowded. They all looked upon him as he knelt before their eyes. He wore black breeches and a black robe embroidered with gold ornamental designs. Upon his shoulders he wore the Baratheon cloak of gold with the black crowned stag on the back. He felt very much a king.

"Do you, Stannis Baratheon, swear by the seven to protect the realm of men to the best of your ability?" the High Septon began.

"I swear."

"Do you, Stannis Baratheon, swear by the seven to pass judgment and give justice with the integrity of a King?"

"I swear."

"Do you, Stannis Baratheon, swear by the seven to dedicate your life to the well-being of your people?"

"I do so swear."

"Then, by the Seven and as High Septon, I do so crown you Stannis of the House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. You knelt before me as a lord, but now you rise as King," he sat the golden crown upon his head and Stannis stood. The High Septon moved to the side as Stannis took climbed to the top. He turned to face the people there to witness before he took his seat upon the Iron Throne. The moment he sat the room burst with a loud cheer. He was officially the King of Westeros.

He then looked out for his family. Delena smiled earnestly as she was beside him in his coronation. Robard stood tall and as straight as a lance like a proud lord, smiling and clapping. Pearse was on top of his shoulders, delightfully giggling and clapping. Shireen was on top of Daven's shoulders, looking happy for the longest time he had seen her happy. Daven clapped but he did not smile like the others. He gave something along the lines of a half-smirk and half a grin.

Stannis then went to his new kingsguard. Now that he was officially a King, he should officially induct the men that swore to protect him into the Kingsguard, properly.

"Kneel.", Stannis said. He held a sword in front of his men as they knelt. "Repeat these words of your sacred oath."

"I vow to take no wife, bear no titles, father no children nor win glory in my name"

"I shall live and die by my King"

"I am the sword in his hand"

"I am the keeper of his truths"

"I am protector of his cause"

"I pledge my honor, I pledge my life to Kingsguard"

"I promise to serve the rightful King"

"From this day til the end of my days"

"May only death release me."

He took his time properly inducting each of the men into his Kingsguard. Stannis raised his sword again, gently placing it on the left shoulder, then on the right shoulder and finally on the head of each person. "I, Stannis of House Baratheon, the First of My Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm name you, Erren Florent, Richard Horpe, Andrew Estermont, Loras Tyrell, Balon Swann, Lyle Crakehall, sworn brothers of my Kingsguard. You knelt as servants of the Realm, now rise as knights."

**Domeric**

It was long and strenuous but he had managed to escort the large party of traitors to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. His wife Alyx Bolton and his father's wife Walda were already gleaming with the early stages of the pregnancy as he saw them last, in a carriage headed toward his ancestral home of the Dreadfort. He took Alyx as his wife out of reluctance. Either outcome, there would be an heir to the Dreadfort, whether be it his own child or his half-brother.

Thinking about it made him remember his own brother Ellard. Just a bit older than him by two or three years. He was quite robust and tall, long sleek dark hair and had their father's eyes: which are as pale and strange as two white moons, paler than stone, darker than milk. Ellard and he never got along, often mocking him that he was not a true Bolton.

If anything, he thought of the Redfort brothers as his own brothers than Ellard. A terrible thing to say and think but he didn't have one fond memory of him, Jasper, Jon and Mychel. He missed their japes, practicing fighting with them. When he came back to the Dreadfort after his fostering, he had heard of a brother he had born near the Weeping Water. He wanted to seek him out but his father had forbade him. That didn't stop Ellard though, and shortly after visiting him, Ellard had passed away strangely. His father then explicitly forbade him to seek out his brother. Frankly, if he could have done that to Ellard, then he did not want to cross with him.

A messenger approached the day before while he and some loyal men were breaking their fast together, everyone still utterly exhausted from their nights activities but in a blissful state.

"What is it?" Domeric asked.

"Word from the villages, the bastard from the Dreadfort has grown more bold," he was told.

"Bolton's - My father's bastard?" Domeric asked.

"Aye my lord," the messenger nodded, "raids, rapes … even murder"

"Gather the men," he said wearily, "this stops now"

"Yes, of course, my lord," the messenger agreed at once, bowing before hurrying away.

"Now M'lord?" one of the men questioned.

"Now," he confirmed, "We will make short work of him I promise you," he smiled reassuringly.

Domeric went out into the encampments then to find the men assembling, he hoped that his father's bastard wouldn't be hard to find as he headed towards the armoury. He felt uneasy about this. Bastard or not, this man was his kin.

"Spread out!" Domeric hissed towards the men to his left.

They did as he bid, he saw their silhouettes in the faint light of the moon as they fanned out across the west wall of the Dreadfort, grappling hooks at the ready, just waiting for the signal."Now you," he said to those on his right then and they moved at once towards the east wall, spreading themselves out as their comrades had.

They had to wait now they were in position, Domeric had little loyal guard around him as they strained their eyes for the signal to come from atop the wall. Steelshanks Walton had infiltrated the Dreadfort, he was one of very few men among his ranks other than him who knew the secret ways in. He had taken a small group of men to dispatch the guards atop the walls. He would throw a torch from the wall when it was done and that was when Robb would give the order for his men to climb. Opening the main gate too soon would draw far too much unwanted attention. They needed to get in and find the bastard fast, once they had him the rest of the forces would have no option but to surrender. Men only fought so long as they had a leader.

He moved his shoulder then, circling it in the joint to loosen it up and he saw Elmar Farring look at him in concern.

"Are you sure you want to go in there?" he asked.

"What kind of lord would I be if I sat on my arse and let everyone else fight for me?" he countered.

"A southern one," Harwin smirked.

"Right enough," Steelshanks chuckled under his breath.

"There," he said then, nodding above the gate where a flaming torch had dropped.

Harwin moved quickly, lighting up a torch of his own and waving it quickly above his head to alert the men beneath the walls before hurriedly extinguishing it. Domeric watched as the men threw up the hooks and began to climb, his heart pounding uneasily until each one of them reached the top, calming himself when they were all safely over.

"Steady," Dennett muttered under his breath as cries and clashing swords filled the air.

"Any minute," Harwin added, pulling his sword from its sheath.

"Stick to the plan," Domeric reminded them, "no heroics"

"Aye," they both agreed as one.

"Now," Robb said as the gates began to rise.

They moved swiftly, crouching low as they ran across the drawbridge and under the gate, darting into the shadows and looking around for the nearest point of entry.

"There," Dennett pointed after a moment.

Steelshanks then pushed away from the wall and sprinting towards the door.

Domeric and Dennett followed him at once, the other members of the guard close behind them as Bolton men began to rise, realising that something was wrong. Many of them were only half clad in armour as they realised the Dreadfort had been infiltrated, some pausing to try and put more on were cut down in an instant. Others fought in just their tunics and Domeric felt almost guilty at how easily his sword cut through them. That was until he reminded himself why they were doing this, what these men had done was despicable.

It took Steelshanks and two men to force the door they had chosen, someone had tried to barricade it but hadn't done a very good job. Domeric went in on Harwin's heels, the hallways inside almost pitch black as they squinted, trying to adjust their eyes to the gloom as they looked for the most promising way to go.

"We split?" Harwin suggested.

"Aye," Domeric nodded as a few of the men lit torches.

"Split!" Dennett called to them then.

"Groups of ten!" Domeric added, "A torch in each, I want the man found!"

The murmurs went through the men then as they repeated Domeric's order to those following on behind. He led his own group to the left then, they paused at each door along the hallway, kicking it open and checking for anyone inside. It was eerily empty, Domeric was just starting to think that something was amiss when another door was flung open to reveal a girl cowering in a corner, holding her shredded dress to her, desperately trying to protect her modesty. She screamed when she saw Domeric and his guard and he held his hands up at once, making a show of sheathing his sword. Harwin came in with him but the other men hung back, keeping a watch on the door.

"It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you," Domeric told the girl gently.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice shaking, "Did he send you?"

"Who?" he asked her, "No one sent me … my name is Domeric Bolton"

"Please don't do anything! I did everything!" she almost screamed, "I did everything he asked of me!"

"Who?" he questioned her again, she looked half mad as she shook, cringing against the wall.

"Oh Gods he's going to kill me!" she wailed.

"That's not going to happen, we're here to help you," Domeric insisted.

"Let me," Dennett said softly.

"This is Dennett, will you let him take care of you?" he asked the girl and she stared at him.

"I don't want to go down there," she whispered and he stared right back, feeling sick at the look of pure terror in her eyes.

"Take care of her," he said to Dennett then who nodded and moved to her side.

Domeric ordered two men to stay and guard the room where Dennett was tending to the girl. He didn't need to be told to know what had happened to her, he recognised the look in her eyes well enough, it was the look that haunted Ana. The rest of his group of men continued on down the hallway and found no more. They hit a dead end then and doubled back, seeing Dennett supporting the girl out of the room, a blanket wrapped securely around her. When they reached the main entrance hall they heard the pounding of armoured footsteps and Domeric was instantly unsheathing his sword again.

"My lord!" it was one of his men who appeared.

"What is it?" he asked at once.

"We have the bastard," he said breathlessly.

"You're certain?" Domeric checked.

"Aye," he nodded, "several men confirmed it"

"Our men?" he persisted, needing to be sure.

"Aye," he nodded again, "bastard took five of our men down before we stopped him"

"Is he alive?" Harwin asked then.

"For now at least," the man said with a quick glance towards Domeric.

"Chain him good," Domeric said then and the man bowed his agreement.

He took a breath then, it was almost done, soon enough Ramsay Snow could be dealt with properly. He sheathed his sword again as he waited for the other groups of men to return, he could hear nothing but silence from outside in the courtyard and he wasn't sure whether to feel calmed by it or unnerved. More pounding footsteps could be heard then and he twitched his hand for his sword again but paused when he saw Elmar coming towards him.

"You have … to … come … now," he said breathlessly.

"What is it?" Domeric questioned.

"You won't believe … you have to … see," he panted out.

"Lead on lad," Harwin nodded to him.

They followed Elmar down a set of narrow steps that seemed to lead down into some sort of cellar. The hairs on the back of Domeric's neck stood up on end as they dropped lower and lower, remembering the terrified look in the girl's eyes. _**I don't want to go down there**_. What in the name of the Gods were they going to find? He was aware of the tales of the Dreadfort, of the Bolton's who flayed their enemies and left their skin on display. Surely Elmar wasn't leading him to that? The pride of his ancestors?

When they reached the depths of the cellar Domeric stopped dead at the sight that greeted him. There was a man, stripped bare but for a pair of filthy linen trousers, tied with his arms and legs outstretched to some kind of rack, a sack over his head. Domeric could see the deep welts that ran across his chest where he had clearly been whipped, there were also burn marks on him and Domeric felt increasingly nauseous.

"Why is he still like that?!" he demanded, "Get him down!"

"My lord … his feet … they are nailed to the rack," Elmar said in a pained voice.

"You," Domeric beckoned to a soldier, "get fresh bandages and find him some clothes"

"Yes my lord," the man agreed at once before hurrying from the room.

"Get him down, be as gentle as you can," Domeric ordered then and men set at it at once.

He moved forward despite himself as they eased the nails slowly from the man's feet as his head began to lift, a groan of pain leaving his mouth as he came to.

"Help me with his arms," he said to Elmar and he obliged at once, untying the knots.

"The Gods know how many more the bastard's had down here," Elmar said, disgusted.

"Please … no more," the man groaned then, "I don't know anything … please"

"We're here to help," Elmar said.

"No … you're just another of his tricks … no … put me back," he moaned desperately.

"We're helping you," Domeric reiterated, thinking how familiar the man's voice sounded.

"Dom?" the man said then in a tiny voice, half fearful, half hopeful.

His feet were free in that instant and Elmar helped Domeric get him down from the rack and steady him before Domeric moved his hand to remove the sack around his head. When he pulled it off he stared for a second, barely able to believe his eyes.

"Theon?" he said, his voice no more than a whisper. He remembered Theon quite well back when he visited Winterfell in what felt like ages ago. The arrogant black-haired youth who constantly practiced his archery and bragged his exploits concerning women. But this wasn't him at all. The fringes of his hair were a bit white and the look in his eyes made him look as broken as his body.

"I'm sorry," Theon staggered against him, "I never meant it I'm sorry! I chose wrong! I chose wrong!"

Domeric didn't know what to say as Theon clung to him so tightly part of him thought he would never let go. He never dreamed he would find him like this in the bowels of the Dreadfort, a tortured shell of a man in rags, clinging to him and sobbing.

"I chose wrong!" he cried desperately, "I chose wrong I'm sorry! Please, I never meant it, I never wanted to kill those boys … but they would never have stopped hunting Bran and Rickon if I didn't do something!"

Without thinking Domeric put his arms around Theon, the man who had been his friend at one point, the man he had trained with, the man who had ultimately betrayed Robb and the man who was now broken before him. How could anyone hate him now? How could he possibly make him suffer any more? Death would have been easier than this torture.

"It's alright Theon," he said gently, "we're going home." He then looked to Steelshanks, "Send a raven to Robb in King's Landing and escort Theon to Winterfell. He may have some pertinent information." Steelshanks nodded and Harwin commanded the men to lead off.

Some were taking Ramsay and his surviving men ahead, Domeric didn't want Theon or the girl they had found to have to see him again. He somehow knew that Ramsay was the kind of man who would be able to inflict psychological torment on someone, even from within a cage.

"My lord, we've found another woman!" one of his men called out then.

"Where?" Domeric asked, his heart sinking, how much more would be uncovered?

"The bastard's bed," he spat, "she wasn't forced to be there either"

"Bring her here," he said gesturing to the other two men who held the girl, "who are you?"

"Myranda," she said, staring him down, not looking phased at all.

"What are you to Ramsay Snow?" he asked.

"His greatest love," Myranda almost purred, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

"Bind her hands, she comes with us," Domeric said, turning away from her in disgust.

Once she was up on a horse and well-guarded he gathered the remaining men to leave, helping Theon out of the keep himself. Theon could barely walk and Domeric wondered if he would even be able to ride, Elmar helped him get him up onto a horse and Theon nodded almost shyly when Domeric asked him if he was able. He pulled himself up onto his own horse then and gave the order the lead off from the Dreadfort. Men barred the gates once they were through before they set off at a steady pace towards Winterfell. It would take another few days to get back and Domeric pondered as they rode south what the reaction would be to him bringing Theon back to Winterfell.

He then heard something like a gurgle as Ramsay was brought in. Ramsay was big boned and slope shouldered, with a fleshiness indicating he will be fat later in life. Ramsay's skin is pink and blotchy, his nose broad, his hair long and dark and dry. What perturbed him about Ramsay was distinctive eyes, which resemble hia father's- small, close-set, and oddly pale, like two chips of dirty ice.

One of the men escorting him had suddenly collapsed. He then looked at the men that were with him. One was a big and portly lad. He is tall and stout, with a red face and big round belly. One was a small, fox-faced lad. They were clearly Freys from the blue enameled chasing of their plating The rest he recognized as Bolton men-at-arms.

"Hello brother" Ramsay said. His voice, it was almost like his father's; spidery-soft.

"You're no brother of mine," he said, raising his sword as Ramsay took off the sword of the fallen man and pointed it at him. He had to admit, Ramsay is quite skilled with a sword. But his swordsmanship style is vicious and highly aggressive, wielding his sword as if it were a butcher's cleaver.

"You're not really a Bolton, are you? Ellard, he truly was" Ramsay said, sporting a ugly smile. "Unfortunately, you aren't either!" he grunted out. Suddenly, Ramsay's attacks were far more vicious. Did he strike a nerve? He then took note that most of Ramsay's men - Bolton men - had been slain by Elmar, a squire who had barely seen thirteen name-days. Suddenly, with a flick of his wrist, he sliced across Ramsay's face.

Ramsay then ran off and grabbed a horse, along with the two Freys who followed behind him. Elmar and he then grabbed a horse chasing after them.

"Find him!"

**Jon**

They had been exploring the Riverlands for quite some time. Robb had instructed for him to watch over Arya as they decided to stay at the Twins with the new Lord Selwyn Riverswyft of the Crossing. He was a rather amiable man who took to jests rather easily. With his father being called the Blackfish, one could easily think that he had a sour sense of humour. Yet, for some reason he found himself drawn at Harrenhal. A part of him was somewhat appealed by that ruined structure but he couldn't comprehend why.

Edrick suggested that it was the Isle of Faces calling out to his Northern blood. He had heard tale of the Isle of Faces and Edrick's idea made sense.

"Can you see it?" The morning was cool and clear as they rounded the mouth of the Blackwater Rush opening to the Gods Eye. A slight breeze made small waves lap up on the riverbank as he scanned the waterline. Arya cupped her hands around her face and whooped when she spotted the isle floating on top of the shimmering water. "There it is!" Arya raised her arms and tipped her face back towards the sky to express her gratitude to the Old Gods.

"I see it, right in the middle," Edrick sounded awestruck, pointing his finger so she could follow his sight. "Never saw a thing like that in my life." He hooked his arm around Arya's neck and drew her head to his solid chest to ruffle her growing hair. She laughed, shoving him off and brushing the hair from her face.

"It's fantastic! I'll race you all," she shouted the sudden challenge, already running down the sloped ground to the lake's shore. "Go!"

"Cheater!" Edrick did not sound angry in the least - what was cheating was his freakish long legs. Arya almost made it to the riverbank before Jon's arms lifted her from behind and spun her around until they both fell. They lay on their backs to the ground - her legs slung over his and one hand grasped his. Their laughter faded into breathless pants before Jon sat up and looked out to the water.

"Arya, look!" Jon shot up, accidentally knocking her down in the process - shouting and waving his hands at the water. "Hey: over here!" Arya rolled onto her knees and stood up, brushing off her hands and trying to see why he was going mad. "Wait! Hold on there!" A boat! Thank the Old Gods, they get things done, unlike the New Gods who just sit around and judge everyone.

It appeared to be old and rickety. As he rowed their way to the Isle, he couldn't help but feel soothed to the sounds of the boat's gentle rocking in the water. As they docked, he couldn't help but feel more entranced and at ease than before. It reminded him so much of the godswood in Winterfell.

Jon carefully looked at one weirwood, as it were ... calling out to him. Like a sense of familiarity. A whisper in the wind. It was ... smiling. It reminded him of the tale that Gendry told him; of the Knight of the Laughing Tree. As he gently placed his hand on the pale bark, something began to ache. Throb from the inside of his brain.

Suddenly, a flurry of images and people's voices were in hie head. He can barely make any sense of it. It was so much like when he was in that old castle.

"The Dragon has three heads, there must be one more"

"I'll only marry in the sight of my Gods"

"The Prince that was Promised"

"The Queen of Love and Beauty"

"The Kingsguard do not flee"

"Promise me, Ned"  
"Promise me, Ned"  
"Promise me, Ned"

As he woke up, he noticed that both Arya and Edrick were unconscious as well. As he went to wash his face by the edge of the Isle, close to where he docked, he then noticed something. Small violet lights in his grey eyes. Had they always been there? Suddenly, a white-bearded man appeared before him, cloaked in a short grey robe and a green mantle with his hands clasped in front of him.

"I've been expecting you," the man approached slowly as he spoke.


	29. Chapter 29

**Jaime**

Mereen. This could either be the greatest idea of his brother's. Or possibly the most stupidest. Tyrion believed it to be prudent to save his honour. What was left of it anyways. What would it matter? At the end of the day, he would always be Ser Jaime Lannister; the Kingslayer. A man without honour. A false knight. Oathbreaker. His new golden hand was proof of that. A golden hand to replace the traitorous one which had done the deed.

Tyrion told him that the last things that Ser Barristan said as his beloved sister named him Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was how he profaned his blade with the very blood of the king he swore to defend. He still remembered the day he received that name. How the golden blade of his sword quickly reddened as he stabbed King Aerys II. Lannister colours.

Oh, I can already here the singers sing on how the great Dragon Queen rightfully slain the mighty Kingslayer. "How much longer til we get to shore?" Jaime called out. "I'm not sure. Hopefully another day or so. Perhaps a week. It's a rather small boat and the winds and tides don't seem to be in our favour"

"Lately, nothing works in the Lannister's favours these days" he retorted. He had overheard word that both the mighty Tywin Lannister, King Joffrey and the Golden Queen had fallen to the blade of the Young Wolf. He then heard that by royal proclamation, Tommen was formerly dispossessed of his right as king and now the current Warden of the West as Tommen Lannister. He never got to see her again. But would it have mattered? She couldn't be saved from the power-hungry monster she was. As for Tommen, he was a good lad. A sweet lad. And if Uncle Kevan is really educating and helping him in ruling the west, he would do finely. But now, he must enter the fangs of the dragon.

* * *

**Raymont**

"I hear that our new princess is quite miffed over the King's latest decision" he said.

"Well, you can't blame her. And you certainly can't blame Stannis for doing what he'd done. The man hates Mace Tyrell. But if you ask me, putting the Fat Flower at the Wall will do more harm than good" Osbert said. "And if you ask me, Stannis would have executed him if he wasn't told to show some restraint by Robard"

"Well, the Reach and all of it's glory will be safe in the capable hands of Willas Tyrell. We'll have to head back to the Vale soon. ... Just what are you reading?" Raymont asked, curious about the book Osbert had been reading.

"_The History and Lineages of the Great Houses of Westeros. _I asked the new Grand Maester Gormon for it. It was the last thing that Uncle Ned read before his ... departure" Osbert said. He had to admit, his curiosity had been peeked.

"Why are you reading that? Oh by the way, I've formally asked the king to grant a favour to the knight that saved you; Harry Hardyng. " he said.

"Did you now? What will dear Harry be getting for saving my life?" Osbert inquired but ignoring the question at hand.

"Complete dominion of the Fingers and a new formal keep of Hardyng Hall to be erected. Even arranged a betrothal between him and Nestor Royce's daughter Myranda" He said.

"Sweet Randa? Huh. I never thought she'd be married again. I thought of asking for her hand. And to answer your question, dear brother, I'm rather curious about the great houses. Frankly, I'm quite miffed that of the three of us, I'm the most Tully. In looks, charm and charisma." Osbert said haughtily.

"I made arrangements for you to be betrothed to Lady Denyse Hightower. And why are you so curious about our lineages?"

"Because, this is what was used to find out about the illegitimacy of the crown. All blonde haired and green eyed like the rest of those snakes. How did no one see this? I always knew something was wrong with that prick. Why a Hightower? Lord Leyton would be more prudent with his last and youngest daughter after that debacle with the Mormont man" Osbert said.

"He was. And he admits that it was just as much his fault as it was theirs. He looked at them and saw two idiots in love."

"Are you in love with Lady Barbara Bracken?"

"Not at the moment. In time, perhaps. She's carrying my heir already. Barbara's already praying for a boy"

"My lords! My Lords Arryn!" Adrian Belmore, the heir of Strongsong, cried out as he came to their chambers. "What is it?" Raymont asked.

"It's Ser Shadrick, my lords. He confessed. He confessed about who paid him to slay Lord Osbert." Adrian said.

"Did he say who did it? And why he did it?" Raymont questioned.

"He wouldn't tell us who but he did say why. The same thing he told Lord Osbert. How even the largest falcons must submit to smaller birds, something like that."

"Did he say anything else. Anything of importance?" Osbert asked.

"Spoke in riddles mostly. Something about a small man and a small bird on his neck" Adrien said.

"A small bird." Raymont then began dipped his quill into a small inkpot and began to crudely draw. "Did he say that it looked like this?" Raymont asked.

"Sounds like it" Adrian said. "My lords, if you forgive me, but what is this about?"

This made some sense. But he needed answers and needed them now. "How many valemen still remain here in King's Landing?" Raymont asked.

"About a thousand. Maybe two." Adrian said. "Gather whatever men remain and head to the Vale. I want Petyr Baelish found and brought to King's Landing. Understood?" Raymont said. Adrian then nodded and quickly left. Raymont then looked to his brother who held a grim and somber look as he looked at the book again.

"... Robin"

"What's wrong?" he asked. Osbert then placed the book in front of him, showing him the pages of House Arryn. "Read it"

He didn't understand. Why would Os show him this? Was this what Uncle Ned felt like when he was looking into the illegitimacy of the crown? What was he supposed to be looking at? The only thing he saw was the numerous names and descriptions of the members of House Arryn. He then looked at the most recent ones; he and his brothers.  
Raymont Arryn - Brown of Hair, Eyes of Blue  
Osbert Arryn - Red of Hair, Eyes of Blue  
Robn Arryn - Black of Hair, Eyes of Blue

"Robin's not one of us. He's not an Arryn" Osbert said sadly. "What are you talking about? He is our brother. Robin is an Arryn!" He retorted.

"He is our brother! Just not an Arryn. Look at it and think about it, Ray!" Osbert said. Every vale lord said that he looked like his grandsire Jon Arryn in his boyhood. Their father said that with the exception of the hair and eyes, Osbert resembled their great-grandsire. Their cousin Androw was said to resemble their grandfather Jon Arryn, if he was born a Tyrell. Every Arryn since Artys I Arryn had variations of brown or blonde hair and a broad robust build. _No, she couldn't. She couldn't have done this, she couldn't have betrayed father!_ he thought, his mind racing.

But everything was being put in their place and he finally began to understand. "Robin"

* * *

**Jon**

Just what was this? Who is this man? "You know who I am?"

"You are a boy," the man replied cautiously, "and a wolf. This one has many questions. Questions that only his gods will answer to" He remembered how Old Nan told him that the green men ride elks and sometimes have antlers, even dark green skin. The man looked friendly enough but something about him felt ominous.

"A boy has his questions. And a boy will get his answers. The Old Gods will show and they will tell." The old man then pointed to the weirwood he saw before. Upon closer inspection, he took note on how similar the weirwood was to the one at Winterfell's godswood. The pale bark as white as bone, leaves crimson and five-pointed that they look like bloodied hands. The face was smiling though. The weirwood face in Winterfell's godswood was long and melancholy; which reminded him so much of his father's face. My face.

Jon then ran his hands over the smooth bark. Suddenly, bright red sap began to leave the eyes of the face. It looked to be crying, and yet he heard something that proved the contrary. A giggle.

A vast amount of images began to swell his head again. But then it stopped, and it felt as if time had stood still. For the man, Edrick and the others were no longer there.  
Instead, he saw a tall lean man with resplendent silver hair and glowing indigo eyes. A slim young woman before him holding his arm. Behind them and in front of the weirwood tree was a wiry young man with blue-grey eyes and narrow jawline. _Looks like a Stark_. In front of them was a knight clad in white whose eyes and hair were a near equivalent to the lean man's. But he was more built and broad and had a pale sword strapped to his back. To his left was another white knight, but he was rather dour-faced and bore a black bat on the helm which he kept tucked beneath his arm. Beside him was a big and brawny man who bore a doublet filled with skulls and sets of lips. _Lem almost looks like him_. Alongside him was another large man but a bit leaner than the "kissing skull" knight and had a doublet with a bright red salmon.  
Suddenly, the man by the weirwood said something but he couldn't make it out. The tall, lean man then placed a cloak on top of the woman's shoulders. Just as he could make out the sigil from the cloak, he heard the woman giggle and the men as well. But it was the woman's giggle that stopped him. He felt drawn to it; to her.

**Edrick**

What was that? What did he just see? He saw numerous pictures that suddenly flew through his head like the wind.

He saw a man plunge a sword into the breast of a woman.

A bright red comet in the shape of a sword streaking across the sky.

A great winged snake who's roar was a river of flame.

A beautiful pale and pristine blade glowing amidst the night sky, which seem to call out to him.

Is he going mad?

But suddenly, the promise he made to Arya and Jon is ringing in his head.

He then sees Jon sitting in front of that funny-looking weirwood from before.  
"Jon. Jon. You okay?" Edrick asks.  
"I-I'm not sure." Jon said, looking a bit uncertain as to where he is. His eyes darting about.  
"Jon. I think it's time I fulfill my promise. It'll be a bit of a bumpy ride but it'll be great. I haven't been to Dorne since I was practically a babe. Hope much hasn't changed"

**Daven**

He kept on training. Robard insisted that as an heir to the Seven Kingdoms that he should be sitting in the small council meetings. But as much as they insisted, he found them to be rather boring. All he understood from the recent meeting was that Dorne was threatening war for the death of Oberyn Martell. Prince Oberyn Martell was slain in a trial by combat. By law it is not murder, but the dornish want their justice. They had already received it when Prince Oberyn finally avenged his sister's death, costing his own life in doing so. Now, Ser Loras was sent to treat with his elder brother and ruler of Dorne Prince Doran; bringing the skull of Gregor Clegane and his member, which was now gilded as a form of appeasement.

His mind kept racing to that day. When the Mountain burst into flames. He didn't know just what he was doing or saying. That woman practically came out of nowhere when he was on the training grounds before. She just kept staring at him before she ultimately approached him; telling him he had a great power within him. He didn't even know what he was saying and the next thing he knew was that his blade were already entranced with flames.

"My Prince" the Red Woman called out from the shadows. "Lady Melisandre. What are you doing here?" he asked

"Simply watching you grow strong with every passing day. And you will grow stronger with the Lord of Light."

"What is it you want from me?"

"Why is it you refuse to bask in his Light even though he has clearly welcoming you in His arms? You held his favour during the trial"

"I don't intend to do the bidding of anyone, especially your Lord of Light"

"There is an immense power within you. Look to the light, Knight of Fire" she said. The Red Woman the pointed to the hacked training dummy and then it was set ablaze.

"Lord of Light. Cast your light upon your servant, Ser Daven. Your Knight of Fire. Cleanse him of the foulness of the false idols. For the night is dark and full of terrors" she cried out

What kind of trick was she playing? Was she supposed to convince everyone of the Kingdoms that this Lord of Light is the one true god? But then, he ... began to see things. In the fire, as she was fabled to do by many of the men. He did not know what he saw or to believe, but suddenly he muttered out, "For the night is dark and full of terrors"

* * *

**Ashara**

She would always be grateful that Ned had blessed her with Alaric. He served to be good company for Aegon. 'Tis a shame that he does not know Allyria. But neither does she. She wouldn't remember her. Ashara can only hope that Allyria has grown up to be a good person and betrothed to a good man like her father was. The news had hit her hard that Ned Stark had died at the hands of a Baratheon bastard prince.

Alaric always asked about him. If he looked like him, if he walked or talked like him. He was the perfect combination of their houses. Not as long-faced as Ned, but his narrow jawline and budding whiskers made him look a bit like a wolf. His face is just as solemn and guarded as Ned's was. He has neat sandy brown hair which shined like beaten gold in the sunlight and her piercing violet eyes. Alaric is not large but had a lean lithe figure from all his days training. He is growing up to be just as honourable as Ned.

Ashara then found herself musing to the life they could have had. Ashara had known the moment she had looked into Ned Stark's eyes that he was the only man she would ever want to marry. They had danced the entire night and it had not taken long for them to court. It would have been the single most happy marriage in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. Lady Ashara Stark. She thought it had a beautiful ring to it. Southern and Northern mixed, like their children would be.

Their daughters would have Ashara's dark curls and pale skin, but Ned's grey, northern eyes. And their sons Ned's Stark looks, but Ashara's violet eyes.

One daughter, his favourite, would favor the North entirely and look alike a Lyanna reborn. One son, her favourite, would favor the South and look alike a Arthur reborn. Alaric did hold some favour to Arthur. Does Allyria hold favour to her?

"Are we close to Mereen?" Aegon called out. Since hearing about Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons, Aegon had become ecstatic to see them. The last of his relatives and the living sigils of his house reborn again. He'd been ecstatic to truly be Aegon. For years, he had been Young Griff of Tyrosh, never able to be called or call himself by his true name. Only she and Jon Connington knew and called him that in private. The boy had captured her heart immediately when she saw him all those years ago, in the Cheesmonger's manse- he was as sweet as his sister had been, as smart as his father, and had the curious energy that almost all little boys possess. She had always been more to him than simply a tutor; she had tried to be as motherly as possible to him, kissing away his tears, singing him to sleep at night, brushing the silver-gold hair from his face as he slept. She told him stories about all of the great knights of Westeros, from the Age of Heroes to the present day: Symeon Star-Eyes, Aegon the Conqueror, Aemon the Dragonknight, and of course, her brother, Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. The boy loved the stories, and was always pretending to be one of them. "Look at me! I'm a knight!" You are more than a knight, sweet boy she always thought. You will be a king.

"We should arrive within the hour" Griff called out. Everyone was rather anxious to arrive in Mereen. Though he would deny it, Jon yearned to be back in Westeros. He won't say it but he would rather be back in his home of Griffin's Roost. He was as tired as any of us. Arthur was never meant for a life at sea. She knew that from the time he would try to spend at the Water Gardens. She missed home too. She missed Starfall. She missed how Arron would try to make her feel at ease but fail miserably. Only Arthur could do that. She missed her mother's warm smiles and her father's warm embraces. She missed Ned's embrace, his sweet words. She missed her Quiet Wolf, but her Desert Wolf; their Forlorn Star had help filled the void that was left by him.

* * *

**Catelyn**

Robb and Jeyne seemed overjoyed as her belly was growing larger by the day. Frankly, she was as well. But this made the pang in her heart echo louder. Ned wouldn't be here to see the birth of his own grandchild and hold it. Caress and put the child close to his chest like it were another one of their own. Ned, my dear Ned.

She then found herself thinking of Jon. The Stark child who looked and acted the most like a Stark. When Ned had brought him to Winterfell, she remembered just how poorly she had acted. Called the babe many demeaning things; even referring to him as a mongrel. And then she heard him say the truth before the Old Gods and his brother Benjen. How he found their sister dying and that he vowed to protect her child. The only thing that stung was how Ned told his brother that he loved Ashara Dayne. But she couldn't hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt her. Frankly, when they both married, they were nothing but strangers and she was still half in love and mourning Brandon; his elder brother. But they came to love one another. How could she not love the man who gave her Robb; who burst out into the world in a mess of red and screaming his little lungs out.

And before that happened, she pleaded for the Seven to make him go away; to let him die. How petty and selfish I'd been. I was jealous of his mother; a woman he would never know. And she couldn't be that for him.

Catelyn made herself wary of Jon; afraid that the boy would grow mad like many Targaryens had been are either filled with greatness or madness. Instead, he grew up a good boy whom her own son loved dearly and who Ned held close to his heart. She wished she could take it all back. How she practically told Sansa to stay away from her "half-brother". How she would admonish Arya for spending time with him.  
And that was a bond that could never be severed. Ever since Arya was an infant, she would instantly quiet when Jon would be near her, her hands grasping for Jon whenever she glimpsed him. Rickon was the same as well. He certainly quieted when she, Ned, Sansa and Robb were able to tend to him. But he'd quiet in an instant when Jon was in proximity. Whenever he played with him and hugged him tightly, he'd scream at her at the top of his lungs as if he were being rendered limb from limb.

Catelyn could have been kinder to him, could have smiled more when he gave her flowers on her name day or offered to sing him to sleep the way she did the others. She could have done better by Jon Snow. She should have seen how Ned had taken to the words of her family when it came to Jon; placing him first above all else.

" ... you did that to our daughter!" she overheard as she began to walk to her chambers. Jeyne's family had come to the capital as they were formally given Castamere by King Stannis - she still had to get used to that - for their staunch loyalty and support, in spite of disobeying their liege lords.

"Did you honestly think the boy would win? I did what I had to do, Gawen!"  
"You have poisoned her! My child, my daughter!"  
"She is my daughter as much as yours, you bloody fool! I did what I did for our family!"  
"Because of you, you have doomed our child! Did you think what would have happened if Robb had won?"

What was going on? She had been wary of Lady Sybell before. Now she looked worried and downtrodden.

"You have doomed her, Sybell!"  
"I don't know how she even bore a child! Those herbs were to prevent it!"  
"Twas a good match either way. And Tywin Lannister would never have given us a thing!"  
"I did it for her and the rest of my children!"

Prevent it? Tywin Lannister? Just what had that prune done to her daughter?

* * *

**Daeron**

The might and army of over a thousand Dornish spearmen. He hadn't thought of marriage in the longest time. The only woman he had ever thought of was the woman that haunts his dreams every night when he lays his bed to sleep.

"What is there to discuss, Daeron? One of the seven kingdoms is rising to the dragons" Daenerys said to her. He knows she wants to go home. But she cannot truly call Westeros her home when she hadn't been and lived there. Undoubtedly, the lords and ladies in the Free Cities plaid their games but not in the way Westeros does. Before he said anything that week, they had heard of the arrival of a "royal fleet" who had come to serve them.

The sails of the ships had drawn him first. A sea-green seahorse on a field of silver. The leader of the crew was the famed Bastard of Driftmark, Aurane Wsters. But it would take a fool to believe that. Yes, there was a Bastard of Driftmark but the person before them was no bastard. It was his brother Aemon. He was tall, strapping and a bit thin. armed with silver-gold hair and vivacious violet eyes. He smiled fondly at Daenerys who told her that her beauty greatly preceded the first Daenerys.

Aemon told many stories about his adventures throughout the Narrow Sea and beyond. What was most interesting was where he had been for the most part. He had safely hidden in Westeros, among the Narrow Sea lords and the Celtigars and Velaryons specifically. How easy it was to blend in alongside the actual Bastard of Driftmark. How he quickly won their allegiance by offering their sisters Aemma and Shaena as brides for them. "I didn't like having to do it but I needed to think about the Targaryen's future, and neither of them were against it. The Celtigars and Velaryons are of the blood of Old Valyria" he answered them. He took note that Daenerys cringed at that. He knows how Viserys practically sold her to a Dothraki khal so he could gain an army. "I never stopped thinking of you all. None of did really. You. You will be a great Queen" he said, praising Daenerys' feat in ending the slave trade of Slaver's Bay. He had to say, Aemon sounded a bit jealous.

With Aemon present, he could surely function as a royal consort to Princess Arianne Martell. He was definitely more handsome than him than before. Neither his face or body was not scarred or covered with pock marks. He looked and felt like a fierce warrior that the people would sing about. He never took to calling or referring to himself as "Prince", "King" or Your Highness. Upon his exile and taking command of the Windblown, he took to referring to himself as a Scion of Rogues or the Sellsword King. Those felt like appropriate titles. Nor Daeron the Dragon or even his childhood nickname Daeron the Dashing.

"DAERON!" Barristan Selmy cried out, bursting into his chamber. Right beside him was Gendry and his sister and brother. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's the Windblown. They have gone." Barristan said. Gone? "Gone? Where could they have gone?" Daeron asked. One of the first things he ever learned was to never trust a sellsword. They sell their service, they don't give it willingly. "The Dragon Pit maybe?" Gendry suggested.

They passed beneath 3 massive arches, went down a torch-lit ramp into the vaults beneath the pyramid, past cisterns, dungeons, and torture chambers (where slaves had been scourged and skinned and burned with red-hot irons). Finally, arriving at an entrance with a pair of huge, forbidding iron doors with rusted hinges, closed with a length of chain whose link is as thick around as a man's arm. He saw how the thick iron was cracked and splitting in three places and the upper corner of the left hand door looks partially melted. Obviously the dragons were well aware of where the pit exit was and were attempting to break free using flame and claw prior to being accidentally loosed.

Right in front of white dragon Viserion was the plain-faced Quentyn Martell, the comely Gerris Drinkwater, the broad and randy Yronwood cousins and members of the Windblown. All of them looked fascinated by the dragon. "Quent. We should stop this. This is maddening!" Cletus said. "If I am to be a part of her army, I need to prove myself. The blood of the dragons is within me as well" Quentyn said. That bratty dornish fool!

"STOP! STOP, YOU BLOODY FOOLS!" Daeron cried out. The party of men were then startled. As soon as Gendry stepped in front of Viserion, the white dragon seemed to calm. The dragon seemed to breathe out a relief.

Suddenly, Rhaegal burst forth in front of them. Roaring and his scales slightly gleaming like bronze and jade. "RHAEGAL!" Daenerys called out to calm her "child". But the dragon seemed to be startled, clearly disturbed from his slumber. Suddenly, flames burst forth from the dragon's mouth. He never felt so warm.

**_Yes. I always had a sneaking suspicion that Robin Arryn was not an Arryn; a possible reason as to why Lysa was so immensely protective of him. Not because he was the only living child but the child to replace the one she lost all those years ago with Littlefinger. _**

**_Looks like Jeyne and Robb are about to be screwed over to the point where its not even funny. Then again, the possibility of losing your wife and child is not yes, Catelyn behaved somewhat like in canon and does bear some regrets. Frankly, I always thought of Ned having taken to the House Tully words when it came to Jon; but in sacrificing his honour to preserve his sister's and made it his duty to protect his family (Jon). Don't get me wrong, I like Catelyn but she's not my favorite character. Rereading her chapters upon closer inspection, it's almost like Sansa's; fairly whiny about the situations at hand.  
She's always been kinda paranoid about the fact that Jon could possibly dispossess Robb as Lord of Winterfell and was vehemently against the fact that Robb named him his heir in place of distant relatives. As much as Jon wanted to be Lord of Winterfell, he just really wants proper love and acknowledgement from Ned. Honestly, Jon simply wants to be able to bear the name Stark, even if it would mean being fourth in line for Winterfell._**

**_Oh NO! The Red Bitch is striking again! Is Daven gonna fall for her bag of tricks?_**


	30. Chapter 30

_**Jaxxx: First off, thanks for the compliment. **_

_**Now, onto your questions. First one: Yes, Denys could have been married to a daughter of a lord paramount, but around the time he married, there wasn't a lot of plotting about overthrowing the Mad King. Yes, I do believe that with the marriages that were being planned: Lyanna/Robert, Catelyn/Brandon, and the Tourney of Harrenhall was some sort of pretense to overthrow him and/or call a great council to remove him. When they came for Hoster Tully's support and his wife died from childbirth, opportunity knocked. **_  
_**Thus, the second part of your question answered as well. With having his son and his nephew succeed him and his son already being married and having initial difficulty conceiving, Jon involved Elbert in the grand scheme of things; arranging a betrothal to him and Mina Tyrell. And to clarify, Paxter Redwyne (her canon husband) is married to a Hightower instead of her. **_

_**Secondly, why is Alaric Dayne a Dayne and not a Sand. Now, Alaric is a Dayne because of the fact that Aegon decided to legitimize him early on in his life, being a childhood companion of his. Not to mention, growing up outside of the customs of Westeros, Alaric doesn't know what it means to be a bastard.**_

**Robard**

He hated having to do this. Stannis Baratheon was a man that was clearly not loved. But he would have been a great king.

But what choice did he have? He had heard plots of the insurgency to place him on the throne and remove his father altogether.

This was the only logical course of action. It had to be.

Or was it a folly on his part? There was no doubt that he was loved amongst the people. He had always cared about the people. A good ruler - a good king - should know and care of the people he governs.

But had it been false? Mace Tyrell would probably laugh his fat arse off once he got wind that his daughter was queen and swelling with his child. But these thoughts were to think about later.

For now, he is King Robard Baratheon. First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

And right now, he must protect the realm.

**Arthur**

The both of them came to the tower with their faces filled to the brim with dust and sour looking. But that was mostly Oswell. Gerold's dark brown hair was peppered heavily with more grey. His face was lined and worn with age, but he was still quite a presence – his shoulders were broad and strong, his hands like great paws. He embraced Ser Arthur in a bear hug, slapping his back.

"Lord Commander," Arthur greeted.

"Arthur," he greeted. "It is good to see you again. How are you faring?"

Ser Arthur glanced back at Lyanna, still holding Jon close to her. "We have done admirably, here in this little tower." He smiled and waved his hand at Jon. Both men of the Kingsguard looked to Jon; Lyanna found herself instinctively holding him closer to her as they stared. "What brings you here?"

"Prince Rhaegar's last words to us before he left for the Trident were to inform us of his marriage to Lady Lyanna," explained Ser Gerold. "He told us also of the babe that grew inside her and that should anything happen to him in battle, he wished for us to swear to protect them both at all costs."

"When our Prince did not return, we knew we had to leave at once," continued Ser Oswell. "But the journey has been fraught. Forces loyal to the rebels run rampant in the Kingswood, all the way up to the Marches. What should have taken us a week to travel has taken thrice that."

"Your raven reached us three days ago," said Ser Arthur.

"We suspected it might," Ser Oswell said. "We had hoped to bring the news in person, but it was not to be."

There was a pause. Arthur seemed to be studying the faces of his friends. "Pray tell me there is not more ill news?" Ser Oswell turned his gaze to the floor, then Ser Gerold responded,

"The war is lost, my friend. Robert Baratheon sits upon the Iron Throne. The King is dead, slain by Jaime Lannister."

Ser Arthur's face darkened. "Jaime? He…" His voice disappeared in a confused exhaling of breath.

"He was guarding the King and he ran his sword through his heart. We heard the news as we travelled through the Stormlands." He shook his head. "We set off on this journey believing we were fulfilling the last wishes of our Prince, but we conclude it with the knowledge that our task is now of much graver import. Before the rebels even arrived in the city, Tywin Lannister and his men came to the gates of the city, begging entrance. King Aerys, it seems, admitted them, and they began to sack the city. Prince Aegon was killed, his head dashed brutally against a wall." He stopped and looked to Jon in Lyanna's arms. "He seems so small doesn't he? But there he is – the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."

They dropped to their knees in front of her, heads bowed, and proclaimed together, "Our King. We swear from this day until our last, we will protect and defend you."

Shortly after she had fallen asleep, they had begun to make plans. "So, what is your judgement then, my lord?" Ser Oswell asked the Lord Commander. Old Ser Gerold sighed; he ran one of his thick-fingered hands through his hair and rubbed his face.

"The way I see it, we have but three options," Ser Gerold replied. "We can bend the knee to the rebels, like our brother Barristan, we can ride to Starfall then sail to Dragonstone to join the Queen and Prince Viserys, or…" He paused and looked around the table. "Or we can make a stand and fight."

"I will not bend the knee," said Ser Arthur. "Just for a moment, stop and think about what will happen if we do. Robert Baratheon will not suffer another Targaryen heir just like he did not suffer Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys. If he gets his hands on the babe, he will kill him. I cannot allow that to happen. I swore to Rhaegar that I would keep them safe."

"I agree," said Ser Oswell. "That is not an option. And if we go to Dragonstone, what then? We cannot stay there forever. The Usurper will have us hunted down."

"We travel across the Narrow Sea, I suppose, to go into hiding," Ser Gerold said. His voice was heavy.

Ser Arthur shook his head. "And do you think that will mean we are safe? That they are safe? Of course it won't. It will buy us time, nothing more."

"Perhaps that is all we need. Once the babe is grown, he can come back to Westeros and claim his throne back again."

"I won't leave Westeros," Lyanna said firmly, as they turned around and noticed her. Ser Gerold regarded her a moment, then explained,

"It may be the only way to keep the babe king safe."

"Jon goes nowhere without me, and I will not go to some foreign clime to spend my life running from one place to another. You say that Robert Baratheon will kill him if you bend the knee – I know Robert well enough and I am telling you, a thin stretch of water will not stand in his way. If he wants something, he has this unerring ability to get it."

Ser Arthur nodded his head. "I believe the Princess is right, my brothers," he said. He sighed and indicated a chair at the table. "Please sit, Your Grace, and hear the news that prompted this discussion. Perhaps then you will understand our predicament." Pulling out a chair, Lyanna watched as he leafed through the stray pieces of parchment to locate one in particular. She sat. "A raven came in the early hours of the morning from my sister Ashara. She has told your brother Ned of our whereabouts."

A smile filled Lyanna's face. "Ned? Really?" She paused. "Why would she do that?" Ser Arthur looked at the letter in his hands.

"She says that she had to make something right out of all the wrongs. She wishes us to treat with him."

Ashara was one of the most happiest people he had known. It was strange for her to say something like that. What wrongs had she committed? "But if she's told Ned where we are…" Lyanna's voice trailed off. Suddenly, she realised why the knights were so conflicted.

"Then he will be coming here very soon," finished Ser Arthur. "And I suppose I should not need to remind you that, regardless of my sister's wishes, he is on the other side."

There was a long, drawn out moment of tension so sharp it could have cut through the air. All three knights seemed to be holding their breath. "Ned wouldn't hurt us!" Lyanna cried out. "He loves me dearly."

"I don't doubt your brother's love for you for a moment, Your Grace," said Ser Arthur. "But he is Robert Baratheon's man through and through. Do you think he will sit idly by and watch us proclaim a new King? Especially one who is but a babe in arms? The war is over. The rebels have won and a usurper sits the Iron Throne. Ned Stark, honourable though he undoubtedly is, will not want to risk allying himself in any way with a boy whose claim to the throne is a thousand times better than that of his friend's. It would make him a traitor in the eyes of his friend."

Her eyes widened as the reality of Ser Arthur's words sank in. "Don't fight him!" she exclaimed. "Do what your sister wanted – Ned will surely listen to you if you talk to him. He's known Robert almost all his life! He could persuade him to help us." But even as she said the words, Lyanna knew… even if Ned did listen, Robert would not.

"Help us do what?" argued Ser Arthur. "Flee? Bend the knee? Accept Robert Baratheon as our king when we know the rightful king still lives? Stand by and watch them murder him?" He shook his head. "No, I will not do that. I swore a vow – to Prince Rhaegar and to my king, my rightful king. I am of the Kingsguard and I cannot turn away from that vow. I will not."

Ser Oswell Whent broke the shocked silence. "Arthur, you speak it true," he said. "I am no oathbreaker."

"So we are decided then," concluded Ser Gerold. "We stand and fight. Trial by combat."

As they stood in front of the tower with the Red Mountains behind them, they saw seven riders approaching, each and everyone of them looking fierce. In the centre was their leader, now Lord Eddard Stark with the ancestral valyrian blade of his family strapped to his back. To his right was a restless young man with a mailed fist on his doublet; Brandon Stark's squire. Next to the squire was a plain-faced man with wolf's heads on his doublet. Followed by brooding silent man with a bronze horse's head on his doublet and then a man with a large protruding scar over his eye and a bucket on his doublet. To Eddard's left was a small man wearing a green hood and armed with a strange kind of spear; nearly akin to a Dornish spear if not for the prongs. Right beside him was a tall broad honey-blond haired man with a moon-and-falcon on his doublet and a falcon's head helm neatly tucked beneath his arm. That was Ser Denys Arryn, heir of Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale, who undoubtedly looked like the soul of courtesy. If he recalled, Ser Denys was close if not a bit older than Rhaegar's age.

"I looked for you on the Trident," Ned said to them.

"We were not there," Ser Gerold answered.

"Woe to the Usurper if we had been," said Ser Oswell.

"When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were."

"Far away," Ser Gerold said, "or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells."

"I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege," Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them."

"Our knees do not bend easily," said Ser Arthur Dayne.

"Ser Willem Darry has fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him."

"Ser Willem is a good man and true," said Ser Oswell.

"But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out. "The Kingsguard does not flee."

"Then or now," said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.

"We swore a vow," explained old Ser Gerold. Ned's wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three. "And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, unsheathing Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.

"No," Ned said with sadness in his voice. "Now it ends."

If felt somewhat exhilarating. Dawn and Ice. Both of their swords of legend clashing furiously together. They barely took notice of the others that began to fall. It was all mixed in with Lyanna's cries for her brother. This was surely something for the bards to sing about.

"Ser Arthur, please. It's over. Let me see my sister" the Quiet Wolf pleaded. He then swung hard enough to knock off the smoky steel blade off the hands of the Lord of Winterfell. "All knight's must bleed Lord Stark. Even honourable men like you. She may hate me for this, but I will at least tell Ashara just how much you loved her" Arthur said. Suddenly, he felt a hot sting of a spear piercing him.

After what felt like ages under the hot dornish sun, he managed to strip himself of his armour and left. What was there to do? Ned Stark would not kill the babe. No man is as cursed as a kin-slayer. As he made his way to the Red Mountains, may be toward the castle of High Hermitage, his mind began to drift off and images of his beloved princess had begun to burn into his mind as the dornish sun began to burn his skin.

* * *

He might be the Sword of the Morning, the famed knight of the Kingsguard but during his time in the Tower of Joy, Ser Arthur Dayne was mercilessly reminded of what he once was. He will keep his oath, yet he cannot help but judge. There were days where he wanted to hate Rhaegar. He knew him well and in spite of how much he wanted to curse him, a part of him still named him brother. When he came across his sister who had been shocked to see him, when he saw the boy, Arthur knew and remembered his vow. The one he made before Rhaegar; the one he made before his king. Aegon looked so much like Rhaegar, but had a bit of a Dornishmen's temperament. His mother's temperament from when they were children.

Yet, his heart had been plagued with strife. His mind first went to Elia Martell, the Princess of Dorne. Her beautiful dark hair, her beautiful almond-shaped onyx eyes and her perfect dusky skin. He never made the vow to protect Aerys, or Rhaegar. It had been for her. From the moment he had been sent to Sunspear as a page, Arthur knew that he would do anything for Princess Elia Martell. He may have failed the mother, but he will not fail the son.

His mind then drifted off to Lyanna. She reminded him so much of Elia. Both of those women fierce and so strong-willed. The moment she began to swell heavily with child, she made numerous comments on how she was not an invalid. He had been there when Elia had given birth to Rhaenys and he had been there when Lyanna gave birth to her baby boy.

So strange how his prophecy had given him another son instead of a daughter. Rhaegar was so sure of that. He suggested to her some names; Nymor, Vorian, Mors. None that satisfied her. And it wasn't until he mentioned the boy's northern appearance that he suggested that he have a northern name; a strong name. She came up with Jon; for the man her brother Eddard had loved dearly. The boy's shiny grey eyes lit up with glee when that name passed her lips. Frankly, a name like Daemon or Jaehaerys would have confused him.

"Arthur?" Ashara's voice said, calling to him.  
"What? What is it?" he asked.  
"You seem to be lost in your thoughts again, brother" she teased.  
"There's so much to think about. Much to do as well. Are you certain the Golden Company will side with Aegon?"  
"I'm not sure of that myself but the magister told us that it would be taken care of"  
"I thought you were in charge of teaching the boy about his history. The Golden Company will never fight for a Targaryen"  
"That is true. But as the magister said, red or black, a dragon is still a dragon."

He and Ashara then stared at Aegon and his nephew. Her son. Perhaps some good did come out of that accursed war. Alaric Dayne. The child she bore from the man she loved so much. That wasn't much of a secret. But he carried a greater one. A secret about another boy he had vowed to protect long ago. The heir of King Aegon, the Sixth of His Name.

**Aegon**

He was in a bed chamber in a city that was being sacked. Aegon could hear the screams coming from the city. He was not alone in the room there were three other people. A pretty woman with dark hair and dark skin, she clutched a baby to her chest. The baby didn't even look a year old. There was also a little girl in the room, she was a near spitting image of her mother, with the dark hair and eyes. Her skin was a lighter color then her mothers but that was the only big difference. She looked no more than three.

Aegon could hear yelling and the sounds of fighting outside the door.

The small dusky-skinned onyx eyed girl ducked under a bed and hid. The door was smashed open and two men walked in.

The first man was a giant. The next man was much shorter, he looked like a pig, with a pale face and beady little eyes. Both men eyed the woman with lust.

"Princess Elia Martell," Pig-Face said mockingly.

"Please, do what ever you want to me just don't hurt my children." Elia had tears in her eyes.

The giant mountain of a man just walked over and pulled Elia's son out of her arms. The baby started to cry.

"What's his name?" The Mountain asked.

"Aegon." Elia looked afraid.

"Named him after his fathers ancestor, fitting. He's a nice boy." The Mountain smiled at the boy before taking him and smashing his head into the side of the wall, killing him instantly. "Was a nice boy."

Elia and the girl screamed.

"What do we have here?" Pig-Face pulled the girl out from underneath the bed. "This must be your daughter."

Elia nodded to scared even to speak.

"She looks just like you," Pig-Face was smiling cruelly. "Go on, reassure you daughter princess."

Elia only could look at her daughter - his sister Rhaenys - both were crying in fear and sadness. Elia is losing everything. She just watched as her sons head - not him though - was smashed into a wall, and now her first child, her beautiful daughter was about to be killed in front of her.

Elia didn't even notice The Mountain walking behind her and tear off her dress. She could only see her daughter.

Pig-Face threw Rhaenys to the ground and pulled out a knife.

"No please," Elia begged him.

Pg-Face smiled and plunged the knife into Rhaenys' stomach.

Elia screamed again. She tried to look away, but the Mountain grabbed her chin and made her watch. Aegon's blood - not his though - was still on the Mountain's hands.

"Not so fast bitch. I want you to watch this while I fuck you."

When the Mountain entered his mother, she made no noise. She felt nothing, she only stared at her daughter in horror, as Pig-Face plunged the knife in and out of her daughters stomach. He stabbed her about half a hundred times. Elia watched she felt nothing now. She had just watched both her children get murdered in front of her.

When the Mountain was done he laughed. "I've had better," He raised Elia's head and smashed on the ground three times.

"What the hell Clegane? I wanted her too." Pig-Face complained.

"Go find somewhere else to stick you prick." The Mountain shouted back. "Lord Tywin will want to see that the Dragonspawn is dead. He will present them to our new king."

The Mountain - Gregor Clegane - picked up the dead bodies of the two children and carried them out of the room. The two men walked to the throne room, where the body of a white haired man lay face first on the ground. Aegon knew it was his grandfather King Aerys. He heard how Jamie Lannister stabbed him in the back.

In the room was a man tall, broad-shouldered and slender man. He had golden hair that was going grey and falling out. He had emerald green eyes, and wore crimson armor that was lined with gold.

"Is it done?" He asked the two men when they came up to him.

"Yes Lord Tywin," Pig-Face stated proudly.

"Proud Ser Amory, you butchered a girl and an infant." Pig-Face shrugged nonchalantly

"Bring them to me."

The Mountain walked forward with the two corpses in his hands.

"When I ordered you to kill them, I didn't mean for it to be this brutal. How many stabs does it take to kill a three year old girl Lorch?"

"She was kicking me and wouldn't stop screaming."

Tywin scowled at the idiotic knight. "Go bring me to Lannister cloaks for the bodies."

Pig-Face - no, Amory Lorch - left and returned with two cloaks. The Mountain carelessly dropped the bodies of the children on to the cloaks. Before turning to leave.

"What the hell is this?" The throne room doors opened revealing a tall brown haired man with Alaric's face riding on a brown horse. He was flanked by a large group of soldiers. It was Lord Eddard Stark

Lord Stark rode straight up to Tywin Lannister and got off his horse. "What the ... what the hell is this?! They were mere children, they were innocent!"

"They are causalities of war Lord Stark."

"Casualties of war? They are not causalities, th-this, this is murder. Princess Elia and her children were innocent of any crime that Rhaegar of Aerys committed. Robert would never condone this."

"Oh he will if he wants his throne," Tywin stated staring into Lord Stark's eyes. "If they lived the boy would be the true heir to the throne, and Robert wouldn't be able to claim it." Tywin was wearing an emotionless mask, while Lord Eddard was furious.

"We will see about that."

His nightmares had begun to plague him more and more by the day. Ordinarily, he would go to Lemore - Ashara - about it but he was a man grown. More importantly, he was a dragon.

But that is also what he needed. Even with the help of Illyrio, there is no guarantee that he would be able to conquer Westeros with sellswords alone. He would need Daenerys, and her resources. But most importantly, he'd need her dragons. The first Aegon had conquered Westeros with dragons. All the more reason why he should as well.

Another thought came to his mind. Daenerys. He had been having dreams of her as well. He heard about her beauty but hearing was one thing and seeing was another. Just how beautiful was she? Did her features bare the beauty of Old Valyria?

"Aegon? Are you alright?" Alaric asked. Alaric. He always appreciated his company. He felt like a brother to him. And yet, somewhere in the back of his head told him that Alaric was not and could not be his brother. He did not understand why though. If one could certainly choose his own siblings, he would undoubtedly name Alaric brother. If not by blood, then by heart.

"I'm fine Alaric. Just ... thinking of things"

"You've been more deep in thought as Uncle Arthur. You even look like him at times"

"Griff keeps telling me that I look more and more like my father."

"Griff says a lot of things. How he plans to take back his home in your name. And that we are to meet up with the Golden Company in the Stepstones"

Before he could reply, he then took notice of a large horde of ships that appeared to be headed toward Mereen. They bore a golden kraken in a field of black. House Greyjoy; We Do Not Sow.

Suddenly, Aegon heard a loud and mighty roar. He then looked to the sky. And what he saw was amazing. He had heard about them. And he had seen some vague pictures but he could not believe it. Dragons. Living breathing dragons. He immediately took to the black one soaring mightily in the sky. Its scales are black, and its horns and spinal plates are blood red. From what he looked and red, it was like looking at the Black Dread reborn.

He then saw the other dragons. One had cream-coloured scales that appeared white, but its horns, wing bones and spinal crest are gold colored. The other had green scales that are a dark green, the green of moss in the deep woods at dusk, just before the light fades, and gleam like jade. They were beautiful.

But suddenly, he looked closely at them. They were certainly a destructive force. But someone was on top of the green dragon. Was it Daenerys? He could not see. But there was large glint to the sword on his hip.

Then he heard something most foul. Like the screaming of a thousand souls and felt as if his very bones are aflame and his flesh searing from within

**Bran**

They were alive. Robb. Sansa. Arya. Rickon. Jon. They were alive but broken in their own way. The lone wolf had died but for how long could their pack survive?

Rickon. He could see him still. He didn't know how but he did. He looked more like a wildling if it was possible.

Arya. Something about his sister is stronger. And yet, foul.

Jon. He's ... different somehow. Something about him seems stronger. Making him more like a Stark than what he is.

He tried to call out to them. Somewhere. Anywhere. But he had forgotten the three-eyed crow's first lesson: the South holds no favour to the Old Gods. For the trees had shown him much and more during this last journey through the past. The weirwood paste had taken him deep within those old roots once again. He couldn't say how long he'd been with the trees that time. Sometimes it was hours, other times it was days. Sometimes Bran thought he never truly woke up.

Beron had told them that they'd been in the caves now for almost half a year but it hadn't felt so long to Bran. He would lose himself in the greenseeing with this man, every lesson feeling like a dream and every dream becoming a lesson.

He still thought of his teacher as such sometimes, the mysterious Three-eyed Crow from his dreams, despite having already learned the truth of him.

Before them sat one of Aegon the Unworthy's royal bastards; Brynden Rivers, a man that Bran had learned about from Maester Luwin. The maester had called the man a rare one in the realm's history, one of great deeds and dark tales. A man who had been old long before Bran's father had even been born, a man who had been none as the Bloodraven by friends and enemies alike.

His milky white skin and emaciated body looked so much like the weirwood roots growing around and through him that Bran could barely tell where the man started and the trees ended. One blood-red eye fixed itself upon Bran. The eye was fascinating and sad. The eye held no warmth as it looked upon Bran but instead, a terrible kind of knowledge.

"We watch, we listen and we remember. The past is already written, and the ink has dried. No one can comprehend what is to come, Brandon Stark" the Bloodraven croaked.

"Then why tell me what is to come!" Bran glared angrily at the decaying creature beside him. "They are my family; my pack! I have to protect them"

"Shall I name the thousands who are to fall by the year and the ones the year after?" The Three-eyed Crow asked. "What of all those who walk this world even as we speak. Will you waste precious time and power trying to refute the one truth of life, that all things must end?"

"By the Gods! They are my family. Sansa and Arya are my sisters! Robb and Rickon are my brothers! Jon is my brother!"

Suddenly, he heard a strange and decrepit noise emanating from the Bloodraven. A wry laugh. He finds this funny ...

"To most I was but a bastard. Much like the one you name brother" Bloodraven had told him. "Yet once I was Hand to a King, to my half-nephew Aerys. Only after my kingly father and princely brother's lives were laid to waste. I rose to become Lord-Commander of the Night's Watch. Truly, I soared high for a bastard… I still do."

What was he yammering on about? ... No. "Y-You're a ... Targaryen?"

"Your family killed my grandfather. My aunt Lyanna. My uncle Brandon…"

"Your namesake, one of them at least. Yes, I know of his fate. Fear not, Brandon Stark, for there are no scores to settle between us." Bloodraven had leaned back against the roots, his red eye closing. "I have been with the Children for more of my life than I was with my own family. Such debts and squabbles are beneath the path that I have been set on. The blood spilt between our houses was done by men who lived long after my time and well before yours… and even during that strife, our bloodlines were joined."

"Joined?" He'd been confused at that. "Joined how?"

Bloodraven had opened his eye again and pointed one gnarled finger towards the smaller weirwood throne, urging him to sit.

"You have glimpsed at times passed once already, though you lacked control then. I will show you how to move through the memories of the trees at will, so that you may find the answers you seek. So you can see for yourself... hear my warning though, young Brandon. It is a hard thing, to lose a brother you love to a crown…"

When he'd drifted into the trees, the feelings were confusing and he became lost in them for a time. That was before Bloodraven began guiding him, taking him through the roots and the years to places and times he'd never been before. The people he saw were familiar though, so much so that his heart yearned to be free of the tree and beside them once more.

The first vision took him to a weirwood in a strange place. A gentle breeze which carried the smell of salt water was a gentle caress, far different from the cool winds he'd grown up with. The smells were different too. And the sights were brighter for they were underneath a scorching bright sun.

A small green man stood before two fairly broad men. One of them had dark brown hair with slate grey eyes. The other had springy hair the colour of honey and bright blue eyes that could pierce into a mans' soul.

The green man said, "I swore to you Greywater's heart and hearth and harvest, our swords and spears and arrows. By earth and water, I swore, by bronze and iron, ice and fire. I will keep my silence."

"Denys?" the brown-haired man said to the other man. The other man looked at them strangely.

"This is treason. We would be lying to our king. A man my father would call son as if he were his own"

"Ser Denys ..."

"But a child should not carry the burden of his fore-bearers mistakes nor die for them. I knew not Lady Lyanna well. But to ask - condone the murder of children, I will keep the boy's secret safe. Spare him all the pain. All the follies. As high as honour"

"He will have a father who loves him, a chance at family, and a chance at life. There is nothing else we can offer him. The truth would only mean that more blood of innocent children would be shed… fire and blood."

"No. Not while I live, not while I can keep my word to Lyanna. To her son."

Father. It was his father's voice. It had started to grow distant then, the world around him becoming foggier as Bran drifted to a different time but Bran tried to fight against the pull. He wanted to look at his father's face. Just a little bit longer.

"We will protect the boy… can never know… Rhaegar's seed… swear before the weirwood..."

His father's words drifted through the leaves to Bran. They sounded old and distant now, like Bloodraven's voice did at times. The other's words were much the same.

"I swear… your son now… protect him with my life… for her."

Bran found himself taken to another place. The scents and sights were familiar. They were before the godswood of Winterfell. It looked as dark as it ever did and yet, it held a certain sense of vibrancy. His father stood before the heart tree with Ice in the dirt and clutching onto a dark-haired babe.

"Gods," he said in a low voice, "I pray for the souls of the living and of the dead. Let Lyanna's soul be at ease now and let her see that I have taken her boy and hope to do as she wished. Let Jon and my son live long and healthy lives and let them grow up close as brothers. Allow him to have to the love his mother bore him and may she watch over him. Let my lady wife find it in her heart to forgive…"

Above him, the leaves of the heart tree shook with a sudden breeze and his father looked up, frowning at the branches. The day had been still. He shook his head, putting the rustling down to an unexpected lifting of the wind, and then resumed his prayer. "Let Catelyn forgive me for the lies I have to tell her. I pray she comes to love me in spite of the wrongs I must needs do, and that we both find happiness in our marriage. Grant wisdom to my brother Benjen in his choices and may the men of my household and lands come to trust and love me. And last of all, Gods be good to me."

'Jon.'

Once more Bloodraven's anger flowed through him. He began to get the impression that his guide didn't want Bran to speak during this journey. Before Bloodraven thought to pull him from the tree Bran had somehow done so himself, wanting to leave this moment of the past. He had heard enough to piece together the truth now.

"Jon isn't my brother." He had admitted out loud and that helped it feel true. "He's the son of a Targaryen… he's ... he's one of you…"

Bloodraven had left the trees as well and looked at Bran with his one eye, nodding so that the root going through his missing eye trembled.

"In some ways, you are right. Both of us raised as bastards. We both share the blood of old Valyria and of the First Men, hold power of ancient and powerful bloodlines. His mother was a Stark, just as mine was a Blackwood. We both bear the blade" To hear Bloodraven speak of having a mother made Bran's mind reel, yet he continued to listen. "Yet your false brother has more claim to the name Targaryen than I ever did. While mine own father acknowledged me in adulthood, Jon's father made sure to bind himself to your aunt in wedlock. He is a trueborn prince… heir to a line of kings, sorcery and dragonriders. A bloodline that is almost lost to the world."

Hearing that Jon could be king shocked Bran and he was still reeling from learning that Jon's father wasn't Eddard Stark. He was the blood of kings. Bran thought that Jon might feel honored, to suddenly go from being a lowly bastard to becoming the heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Bloodraven's eye had locked on Bran then, as if knowing what he thought.

" In the end, he will be heir to no one and nothing. He is heir to nothing but death and sorrow young Brandon. His legacy is that of grief ans strife. And yet, he is destined to embark upon a doomed cause. The Kingdoms of the First Men could not throw back the darkness by themselves and the North cannot do so now. The throne so deeply coveted by many will be painted red by its claimants, blood frozen upon those iron blades from the cold that is to come." Bloodraven had rasped. "The throne you sit upon is the only one that matters. For when the true war moves south..."

"What do you mean by that?" Bran suddenly realized. "What doomed cause?"

Bloodraven clearly didn't want to tell him, for the creature became quiet for some time. His bony fingers tapped slowly upon his leg, the sound echoing through the cave like a branch softly striking a rotten log. Bran persisted though. Jon might not be his true brother but he would always love him the same.

If he is in trouble I will help him.

I'll help them all.

"The Others march again, you know this. The Wall will hold them for some time, as it already has, as it was always meant to. My dreams tell me that it cannot do so for long though. Your cousin, blood of our blood, will go forth to fight against the inevitable. The fall will come. Then he will share the fate of his fathers…"

"No!" Bran had screamed, his voice ringing off the cavern walls. "No, we can stop it!"

Without even trying, he went back into the trees. His heart drove him this time. Bloodraven's attempts to catch him were lost as Bran forged his own path. It was journey he knew deep in bones. He flew through the cold and the earth, towards a place as old as it was warm to him.

For he found himself at the heart tree in Winterfell. Dawn had come to his home yet smoke rose from different parts of the castle he could see. Robb was there, cleaning Ice of blood like Father always did. Except his eyes looked like chips of ice. Not shining brightly as they used to.

He then saw another young man who's hair was long and white as summer snows. He bore a sword as pale as milk glass that pierced the hard ground of the godswood. Another young man beside him had golden brown hair, with budding whiskers on a narrow jawline which made him look wolfish.

The power he now felt in Winterfell was much stronger. It flowed through his entire being, making him feel as tall as the heart tree itself.

He wanted to tell them all so much. How he loved them, how much he missed them. How he wanted to be with them so badly. Instead Bran decided on what needed to be done and what he needed to do first. He had tried to scream his warnings to them in any way he could but no one heard him.

Of the threat which was coming, of the Others and the wights.

Of the cold and the darkness.

Bloodraven found him before he could make them listen though. He fought against the man's pull as long as he could. Yet in the end, Bloodraven had won, dragging him back to his crippled little-boy body and away from his family.

"You can help them all, Brandon Stark, but not in such a foolish way." Bloodraven shook his head stiffly. "There is much to show you. Of your power… of your namesake's power…"

"I don't care! Hodor!" He yelled, looking back towards the part of the cave the stableboy usually came from. "Hodor!"

If Bloodraven wouldn't let him warn his family, he could sit here in the dark by himself for all Bran cared.

I can tell Hodor that everyone is back in Winterfell.

I'll tell Meera and Jojen and Beron that my family is alive! Happy news would be good for them!

Meera had been waiting for him less and less when he awoke from his lessons. Usually it was him that had to seek her out on Hodor's back. Almost always he found her with Beron, who was becoming weaker by the day.

"He needs the sun, Bran." Meera and Jojen said the last time, angry and shaking with worry at how morose Beron had become. "This place… it's bad for him. I'd try and take him away from it but even if we could get by the wights, I don't think he'd go."

Her sadness made Bran want to touch her, to hold her, to tell her it would all be alright, just like mother had done for him a thousand years ago. Yet Bran had spoken with Beron, had heard the despair and sadness in his friend's voice. In truth, Bran feared for him as well. He looked more pale and frail with each passing second. The small beard on his face looked thin. His dull grey eyes losing luster.

"I heard that my father had traveled south." Beron had whispered to Bran from his place near the entrance to Bloodraven's cave. "And that it was the south that had killed him. I barely knew my mother. I stayed in north and went as far north as a northman could ever be. I hope I made old Lord Ryswell proud of me. My mother, ... and my father. Wherever they are, I hope and pray that they are proud of me"

"They will be." Bran had argued. "You'll tell them yourself. You're a hero Beron, all will know that. They'll sing of you and tell stories about your bravery and carry you on their shoulders like Hodor carries me."

Beron had let a single tear slip then, and let out a small pained chuckle. His eyes never leaving the snowy entrance ahead. Where the cold winds blew and the wights slept below the snows.

"The only place I'll be carried is into the dark Bran." Beron wept. "Please. Don't let that be what I'm remembered for, Bran."

"Hodor." The large stableboy had said, as if to remind him that Bloodraven awaited him.

So he left Beron's side then but now he wished he hadn't. Bran was angry with Bloodraven, confused with the man's lessons and unwilling to accept that he couldn't help his family. That he couldn't speak to them. That he couldn't tell them he was alright.

"Hodor!" Bran cried again.

He called a few more times with his weak little-boy voice, finding it strange that Hodor did not come. There was only silence and the sound of running water from the abyss, Bloodraven watching him silently the whole time.

"I .. am glad. I got to do something worthwhile. I helped and served my prince. My Lord Stark of Winterfell. My ... family..."

_Wake up! Beron!_

_You're a hero! We are all going to be heroes!_

_Just wake up!_

His friend lay quiet nonetheless.

Dead and cold.

And then everything fell pray to the silence of the winds.

* * *

"How much longer must we keep up this charade?"

"For as long as it need be. The time is not yet ripe"

"You told me that all those years ago, when your brother bore the sense to raise up Dorne's banners for my family! For the dragons!"

"Simply have patience, Ger - "

"NO! Do not presume to call me by that awful name! Forcing me to reside in that castle like a hermit!"

"You are only a hermit because you saw fit to kill the ones who dare bear you in their halls!"

"Only venom hath weened me. Any viper that dare take a bite of me will rue it. The Red Viper taught me well, when you saw fit for me to squire under your brother"

"Just what do you think you plan on doing?"

"I will take back my birthright. With fire. And blood"

_**Although more or less everything I have ever read about Lyanna's death has her dying in childbirth just as Ned runs up the steps of the Tower of Joy, I am of the mind that Ned's observation that 'the fever had taken her strength' suggests that instead, she dies of puerperal fever, a common complication of childbirth during the Middle Ages.**_

_**Yes, it looks like Stanny B is heading toward the Wall. And it looks like the Fat Flower will be laughing his ass off. **_

_**Sorry for making Arthur sound like Jon Connington but all within good reason. Arthur has done his part in taking care of Aegon, along with Ashara and Jon. But whereas Jon loves and cares for him due to the guilt he bares for the Battle of the Bells and the resemblance and love his has for Rhaegar, Arthur does so himself in Elia's memory and love he had for her. Being a Kingsguard and best friend to the Silver Prince must have wracked him. **_

_**Yes, Beron is the apparent son of the Wild Wolf and Barbrey Ryswell. And was his sacrifice for naught? **_

_**Who is the mystery man in the last part? You'll find out soon enough.**_


	31. Chapter 31

**Staniel: Yes, there were several things that I wanted to include but decided to remove as it would have made the story a bit more longer. In turn, ****I've actually thought through a super-complicated backstory for this fic that you are never going to see ANY of (due to limited perspective; which I have no problems with, but I love to see people thinking about the things that I've planned regardless).**

**Some of the things I took out were stuff that occurred Before, During, and After the Rebellion. I was originally going to leave both Ethan Glover and Elbert Arryn in the Black Cells where both Ned and Denys find them. Ethan simply grumbling on about Brandon's death and desire for vengeance, whereas Elbert is broken in every aspect; crying, on the verge of losing his sanity combined with feelings of remorse and guilt in his cousin Jasper's death.**

**I also initally planned for Bran to be travelling with not only Hodor, Jojen and Meera Reed, but with two of Brandon Stark's bastards. One with Barbrey Ryswell (Beron Snow) and one with an OC named Bennard Snow.**

**Sansa**

She couldn't believe that after all this time she would be heading back to Winterfell with her new husband in tow. Edric was more than eager to come. He had been offered an ample amount of land to settle in and create a cadet branch to the Florents but respectfully declined. He may have earned the Florent's ire in gaining King Robard's favour. Especially since he had been granted his own Valyrian steel sword: Orphan-Maker. She could already imagine Edric kneeling before the heart tree and cleaning the blade as her father had done. Passing a whetstone over its dark blade.

Gone was the naive girl who believed in her songs and knights. Her sweet porcelain skin was now as strong and hard as steel, but still as beautiful. She was more than happy to return to her home. The home which she desperately wanted to leave, now a place she would want to stay. And where she and Robb's wife Jeyne will raise their children. Jeyne was just as ecstatic to return to Winterfell. They both wanted their children to be born in Winterfell.

Her friend Jeyne Slate was another matter. She had changed as well but not for the better. She seemed rather jumpy and skittish; flinching at every little thing. It was rather strange that some Stark men-at-arms had recognized and found her hidden in a brothel all this time. When she came to her, she cried the entire night. The following morning she barely responded to anything at all.

And yet, as the carriage carrying them seemed nearer to the North, so did her dreams. Strange they were. She kept seeing crashing waves, smelling the salt in the air. But something was clear. Something was staring back at her. A pair of bright green eyes on a dark body.

**Cregard**

Time. Just how much time had passed? Since they arrived on Skagos, time was all they had. But now, they would be running out of time. Alys would need to take the twins to their home so they could be safe and warm.

Rickon, Errold, Edmyn and Daryn and him have all grown from time well spent on Skagos. If he were a knight, he would formally knight the whole lot of them. The Dark Stark had become quite the refutable warrior.

The Skagosi people were quite fearsome but an amiable people. Almost like the Ironborn and northmen; preferring to be left to their own vices. They nearly drove them off at first. But it wasn't until the wolf came from behind Rickon, and leapt out in front and begun to bare his fangs that they began to revere the boy as a god.

Surely, the Old Gods must have sent the Stark children the wolves for a reason. But now was no time to think on those matters. Right now, they needed to get home. For the stories they once told each other are beginning to come true. Osha was right. We should have run off down south.

For winter is coming for us all.

**Rhaenys**

Where was she? Why did her head ache so?

She looked around to see anything familiar about this place.

This room... This room was familiar. It was the room she stayed in for so many years. Where she had a perfect view of the Torrentine and the brightly-coloured Red Mountains. High Hermitage.

"Its about time you had awakened, my sweet Serena Sand. Or should I call you by your true name now?" said a cold callous voice.

The person came closer. He has a clean-shaven face with an aquiline nose, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He has thick silver hair that falls to his collar like a silver glacier, divided by a streak of midnight black. His eyes near black. But as he came close, she could see that they were a dark purple - dark and angry. Gerold.

She had known Gerold Dayne nearly all her life. A handsome man, but a cruel man. He bears a cruel mouth with a crueler tongue. She remembered once that when she returned from a visit to Planky Town, his father had been slain. When she asked how or what killed him, he seemed indifferent to her. "it is what it is" he told her.

"Gerold. What is this? Why have you brought me here? Why are you doing this?!"

"Do calm down, sweet Rhaenys." he said in a cold voice. "Most women would claw each other's eyes out for this position. Now then, kneel before me, my queen. Kneel before King Jaehaerys, the Third of His Name. Rightful King of the Andals the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

What madness was he speaking now? Jaehaerys? King? Has Gerold finally lost his senses?

"Wha-What are you talking about Ger - "

He then smacked her so hard that her mouth felt aflame.

"Jaehaerys. I am Jaehaerys Targaryen, Third of My Name. Do NOT dare to call me that name!"

She suddenly felt herself tremble. Gerold ... a Targaryen? He was undoubtedly handsome as the described dragonlords. As handsome as she remembered her father to be. Perhaps he was lying. But somehow, within the crackle of his voice, she heard something akin to the screeching of her grandfather; the Mad King.

"Now, am I going to have to ask you again, Rhaenys?"

She then looked at him only to receive another strike to her face, this time with the heel of his boot.

"Kneel before me, my queen!"

She then trembled. She was named after the strong sister-wife of the Conqueror. She was - is - a dragon. And yet, she feels like the most cowardly dragon that may have ever existed.

Rhaenys could do nothing but obey and then ask with a trembling voice, "Does this please you, my king?"

"Yes. It pleases me so"

**Littlefinger**

She came to visit more often. Those two women seemed to find some sort of solace in one another. Lysa was lovely in certain aspects. Not nearly as beautiful as Cat but close enough.

Mina however ... She was quite lovely. Very lovely. Soft supple brown hair. Her figure shapely but much more slender then Lysa's. Her golden-brown eyes as soft as a doe's. But nowhere near as bright and lovely as Cat's. No one is as lovely as Cat.

Through Lysa, he easily had the riverlands and the Vale. Robin, sweet naive stupid Robin. A sickly disgusting little thing, but useful in controlling the Vale. If Shadrick did his work, than he would have complete control over the region.

Mina however was a much sweeter prize. A highborn lady of House Tyrell. She's like all women in mourning. She needed a good fucking now that her arrogant arse of a husband now lied beneath the dirt. She was no different than any whore or whoremonger. In desperate need of a simple touch. Any touch on any part of her body. Aching for it like any whore from any corner of the world.

"LORD PETYR BAELISH!"

Suddenly, several knights of the Vale came crashing through the entrance of the Eyrie. Leading them was Raymont Arryn, his brother Osbert, and his cousin Androw Arryn.

"My Lords Arryn. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Seize him. Take him to one of the sky cells, where Lord Baelish will be placed until his trial. He has been denounced and attainted, stripped of all ranks and titles by our king, and declared an enemy to the crown."

_**Sorry. Relatively short chapter. So, yes, we have met the final (well-hidden) Targaryen. I always had bit of a suspicion about Darkstar's role. And looking into the Targaryen's appearance, (streaks through the hair) I always had the sneaking suspicion that he was one. So, yeah, he's quite crazed, maybe more so than Viserys.**_

_**I klnda liked writing in Littlefinger's perspective. I definitely feel that he's developed a low opinion of women after his experience with Brandon and that working whorehouses further fuels that. I mean, he definitely has some problems. Recall that little conversation he had with Ros in GoT, and his last line; "I'm not going to fight them, I'm going to fuck them" It definitely implies how he screws over people in every sense of the word and enjoys every bit of it; reveling in chaos. As chaos is a ladder.**_


	32. Chapter 32

**Tyrion**

The Great City of Mereen. A rather marvelous sight to behold really. If the people didn't look extraordinarily worried over the large dragons that were flying all around them.

In all honesty, he was excited and terrified about the dragons. All his childhood, he had wanted a dragon and hoped to mount upon one to not only look taller than any man but to fly as high as the great beast could take him. Touch the clouds. Call himself Aegon the Conqueror come again.

As he stared at the white dragon that perched itself on a pyramid, he could not help but believe that it could happen for real. The majority of the dragon's scales are cream, almost appearing white but its horns, wing bones and spinal crest are gold colored. Its eyes are two pools of molten gold. It then released a flame that is pale gold shot through with red and orange. It then unleashed a mighty roar that would send all the caged lions in Casterly Rock running.

His eyes then fell to the many pyramids that occupy the city of Mereen. So many of these great and powerful structured pyramids. "Now, in which of these things is the Dragon Queen supposed to be in?" Jaime inquired.

"I heard that the "Mother of Dragons" as the bards prefer to call her that she has taken up residence in the Great Pyramid of Mereen. It is said to be as tall as the Wall"

"HALT!" a voice cried out behind them. It was a man with a broad, weathered face, brown skin, a broken nose, and grey-white hair and a salt and pepper beard cried out. His eyes were almond-shaped and emitted a coldness he felt at the Wall. "In the name of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, _Khaleesi_ of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons, stop what you are doing!"

The banner-bearers carried two banners. One carried a broken sword. That was the banner of the Second Sons. The other seemed rather unfamiliar. It was a fork-taled blue-and-white flag. But right beside the dark-skinned man were two of the fiercest men he'd ever seen. A large broad man with a weathered and pockmarked face. The other man may possibly be larger than both of them, having a seamed, scarred face and a curved black sword in his right hand that looked as nasty as its owner. His eyes looked more menacing than that of the dark-skinned man.

"That's a rather bold sentiment when we haven't been doing anything in particular!" Tyrion quipped.

"Address yourselves" the large man growled out. He sounds more beast than man. Almost like the dog he knew the Clegane brothers to be.

"I am Ser ... Arthur Halfhand and this is my trusted companion and squire Hugor Hill" Jaime said.

"They look to be Lew's kin! What do you think, Denzo D'han?" the dark-skinned man asked the weathered, pock-marked man.

"Somewhat, Ben. Somewhat" Denzo D'han said. "Caggo, you might want to restrain yourself" he then told the bestial man from before.

"You think he's part of my brood? I'll be the judge of that!" said the lean man called Lew. He then got off of his horse and stepped close to them both to address them.

His eyes were a beautiful cornflower blue, his smile quite unsettling and hair nearly white as flax. He remembered when that smile was always warm. Warm as his arms when he would pick him up and throw him into the air like he was little more than a rag-doll. He remembered that he told him due to their differently coloured eyes is what makes them the better and more handsome Lannisters. He remembered just how sad he was the day he left from Lannisport.

Tyrion would entertain his daughter with the same type of tales that her father would do with him.

"It can't be ... possible"

"By the Gods!"

"It has been a long time since we'd seen one another. Uncle Gery"

**Daenerys**

She could not believe it. Her brother Daeron stood before her completely charred and smelling of pitch. His skin was nearly blackened if not for the bandages covering his body from head to toe.

Gendry stood tall in his armor; keeping vigil over her brother. Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah also stood by. She could not believe in what had happened.

* * *

Rhaegal suddenly breathed out a storm of flames which landed on Daeron. Daeron barely even screamed. The flames seemed to embrace him. The Yronwood men looked scared at the sight of it. The Prince of Dorne looked shocked and terrified by what had happened.

The comely Gerris however kept an expression of neutrality. He then approached the screeching Rhaegal.

"Drink! What in seven hells are you doing, man?!" Cletus Yronwood cried out.

Yet, he remains calm. A whip, tightly clutched in his hand is drawn out and a loud _thwack_ is heard as it smacks on to the fiery skin of Rhaegal. Rhaegal screeched out again, but it did not appear to be in any sort of visible pain. Again, the whip _thwacked _and the volume of Rhaegal's screech lessened as the man approached the dragon_. _

Suddenly, Rhaegal appeared to be almost tame; still baring his fangs. "Calm" Gerris said in a commanding tone. Rhaegal begins to lower his head somewhat.

"You'll do nicely" the comely man said. Rhaegal came closer and lowered his head to the young knight. Suddenly, he placed his hand on the crown of the green dragon's head.

"Drink? Drink, wha-what's going on?" the Yronwood heir cried out.

"Someone shut him up!" he cried out to a Windblown man. The Windblown man then shot an arrow into the Yronwood heir's shoulder.

"Gerris! What are - Why are you doing this?" the Dornish Prince cried out.

"Quent. Sweet, stupid Quent. You were never going to succeed in this. You have bowed, you have bent and you are indeed broken. But a true scion of Old Valyria ... "

"Y-Yo ... You're a Targaryen bastard?" Gendry said, waving his sword accusingly.

"I come from a long line of Targaryen bastards. Since the first bastard to have ever bore this sword!" Gerris cried out, pulling out his sword from the scabbard. Larger than a longsword but smaller than a greatsword, it was a bastard blade in truth, but that description insulted its majesty. The sword was a gleaming piece of artistry. It's steel looked smoother than ice and the edges glinted with a fearsome sharpness that even Barristan feared to touch. At the base, where the blade was at its thickest, were ripples with black designs, including words etched in High Valyrian.

Even with Barristan's trained eyes, she could tell that the guard and handle matched Blackfyre's splendor perfectly. The guard was done in the shape of dragon wings while a dragon's head laid where they joined, a pair of bright red rubies shining in its eyes. The handle itself looked to be banded with black steel.

"Blackfyre. That be the sword that Maelys the Monstrous tried to swing at me! How is it that you have the blade?!" Barristan cried out.

"Maelys had not been the last to bear the sword. But not the last one. Many of the Black Dragon's had fled and the one before me believed himself true. And with a dragon by my side, the day is lost to you all"

"I urge you to fall back, ser. You may bare the sword as those before but you will fail as those before as well."

"And urge me to do what exactly? Scamper back to the far corners of the Narrow Sea as Daemon Blackfyre and Bittersteel did before? Daemon Blackfyre was considered to be nothing more than a rebel and a usurper, and Bittersteel a bastard who sought gold and glory. When he fled, he swore he would return to place a son of Daemon's upon the Iron Throne. He never did. Words are wind, and the wind that blows exiles across the narrow sea seldom blows them back. I overheard rumours of the Silver Bitch's brother boasting of returning and believed himself the heir to a long and proud dynasty. He's more a bastard than I could be considered to be. And I already have the support of Houses Yronwood and Fowler as well as an army waiting for me."

Gerris suddenly leapt on to the back of Rhaegal, releasing another thwack to his neck. Rhaegal screeched loudly, flames frothing at his mouth.

"THE BLACK DRAGON WILL DESTROY THE RED DRAGON, AND IT IS THE BLACK DRAGON THAT WILL REIGN SUPREME!" his words echoed out.

* * *

The last words he cried out haunted her ears and mind. It hurt that the last of the black dragons had taken away a red dragon from her. Her brother; a true dragon.

"I have done all I can for him, my queen. It is amazing that he has lived this long" the maester Kedry informed her. Her brother had still been alive for at least a day. The Blackfyre had done nothing but mock her, flying around the city of Mereen while having mounted on her child. Mocking her as if she were a child. He will remember that she is anything but. For she is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, and he will pay for his insolence with fire and blood.

**Arthur**

Even though the sound had passed, he could not ignore this strange feeling. It was as if all the dread of the world was now looming around his shoulders like the white cloak of the Kingsguard once did. _But I am still a Kingsguard_, a voice reminds him. _Just not Rhaegar's Kingsguard_

He then took a good look as to where they were heading. Nowhere, really. Aegon charged in blazing the moment he got off the boat. Rolly and Griff following in pursuit. Haldon simply rubbed the temples of his head with his nimble fingers. Alaric calmly keeping up pace. Ashara sighed the same sigh as their mother would whenever they got themselves into trouble. Back during the days of innocence. But he is not the sweet summer child of ages past. He is more than a man grown. The light of his youth had been whisked away, like the sun slowly setting into the dark night sky. A Sword of the Evening.

"AEGON! STOP RIGHT NOW!" he said, grabbing the boy by the shirt of his collar. Gods, educating him was troublesome. But he took to most of his lessons like a fish to a hook. He seemed to flourish more once the fat cheese lord sent him Rolly nearly four years ago. He must have related to him more though, both of them orphans in a sense.

"Arthur, let me go!" Aegon whined. "Your King just gave you an order!" Griff growled. "I don't see a king giving me orders right now. I see an impatient and an impudent little brat thinking with a fool head rather than a king's." Arthur said, chastising the Griffin Lord. And to think he was insufferable before when they were all just boys. But like him, he was no longer a child desperately seeking glory. All the years of exile have begun to wrinkle his leathery skin, and made him all the more fierce, cautious, seasoned and dangerous.

"Daenerys is the last of my family, Arthur. I don't know what is going on but I need to go. I need to help her." Aegon said. And there it was. The innate stubbornness and love of Elia's coursing through his veins was present. The boy had yet to meet his last living relative. He then pointed out to a large pyramid as famously large as the Wall of the North, bearing a banner of a red three-headed dragon on black. "Where else may she be?"

So, they headed toward the pyramid. The outer walls are at least 30 feet thick; muffling the tumult of the streets. Suddenly, a small group of Unsullied soldiers came in front of them. "Halt! In the name of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of Mereen." the leader among them said in High Valyrian.

"In the name of Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, Rightful King of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, we humbly request an audience Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. The Mother of Dragons"

**Barristan**

Gods. He had failed again. Daenerys had spent most of her days at her brother's bedside. Aemon himself had formed a council of Mereen, consisting of him and veteran pit fighters ruling in her stead. Suddenly, Tum, Larraq and the Red Lamb came with several Unsullied soldiers that were lead by Grey Worm. "Ser Barristan the Bold. This one asks to seek an audience with our gracious queen" Grey Worm said, pointing to the group at the center they were flanking. "Let them pass" he said.

He could not believe the sight of the people that were in front of him. The lithe and well-made youth leading the group had a lanky build, long, seemingly feminine eyelashes and a handsome almost cherub-like face, silver-gold hair and light indigo eyes. It was as the Gods saw it fit to bring back the Silver Prince.

To the boy's right was a red-haired clean shaven man with leathery skin and crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. On his doublet were a red-and-white griffin counter charged. Jon Connington; the Mad King's Hand. How is it that he is still alive? Last he heard he had died drinking away his woes in Lys.

To the boy's left was a tall dark-haired woman that looked to be at least forty years old. She was quite handsome. Those eyes... He'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Queen Daenerys has those same eyes. But they were not the same laughing ones he saw all those years ago. They haunted more than ever. But that smile etched on her face was still warm.

To her left was a tall broad man he thought had been lost forever and would only be remembered in the famous Book of Brothers. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He was still as broad as he remembered him to be. His ash blonde hair hung to his shoulders. His violet eyes as serious as ever were filled with so much sorrow and grief that they nearly appeared black.

By Ashara's right was a lean young man. He had the same violet eyes as Ashara but his were daunting rather than laughing, and almost taunting him. The boy's face was a bit long, solemn and guarded, his jawline narrow, neat sandy brown hair that shown like gold and appeared to be quite lean and lithe. What was most strange was the boy's sigil. His sigil is the sigil of House Dayne with a stripe along the border, but the stripe is grey. Stark grey.

"Just who do you believe you are, barging in on the queen?" Jorah Mormont growled. His devotion to Queen Daenerys was duly and firmly noted. But he ignored him and headed straight toward his brother.

"Arthur"  
"Bloody Bold Barristan!"

He suddenly felt his brother's arms around his stooped shoulders. He even felt the vibrations of the deep belly laugh that Arthur laughed out. Who knows what the man may have seen and experienced but he was still here. He was still the same Arthur Dayne he had known when he'd been inducted into the Kingsguard at the age of ten-and-nine. But then he looked toward Gendry and the liveliness in his eyes quickly turned to anger.

"Robert fucking Baratheon? DIE!" Jon Coninngton cried out as he drew his sword and tried to swing at the boy. Gendry simply took out his valyrian steel blade and quickly began to deflect the exile's blow.

"Stop yourself right now, you idiot! You didn't kill him before and you are certainly not going to kill him now. This is more than likely his son." Arthur said, chastising Jon Connington as if he were admonishing a child that had been caught stealing sweets. Gendry uneasily stepped forward; his sword still drawn and his grip on it tight. "he certainly looks like him. The Usurper's boy; son of the Whoremonger King" Conngngton growled making Gendry look uneasy.

Daenerys then looked up at them; her concern for her brother briefly waning. "Just who are you and what is it you wa - " Her expression turned dumbfounded as her eyes laid upon the lanky silver-haired youth. Violet on indigo.

"R-R-Rhaegar? N-No. N-N-Not p-p-possible." Daeron croaked out. It was a miracle that he was alive but he shouldn't be talking. His voice sounded like a croak or a harsh whisper.

"H-How do you know my father's name?" the youth said. Father? No, not possible. He remembered that day. Rhaegar's infant son had his head bashed in by the Mountain; Gregor Clegane. And yet, Daeron and Aemon had survived. And looking at the youth, he looked very inch like Rhaegar reborn. Lean, lithe, but not nearly as tall.

"P-P-Prince. P-P-P-Promised p-prince. Three he-heads" Daeron croaked out. His index finger then pointed out to a chest he had brought with him.

"O-Open. Worthy. F-Fire. B-B-Bloood." he croaked out. Aegon then opened the chest. He took out a longsword that bore one word near the hilt of the blade in High Valyrian. _Truth, I believe it says, _he pommel was made of dragonbone.

But his attention was quickly turned to another blade and held it skyward. The blade was long, dangerously sharp, and seemed to have been folded in on itself half a thousand times until the Valyrian steel glinted red and orange in the light. The sword's pommel was shapen like a dragon's head, dark and ominous with two ruby eyes; the dragon's wings were wide and unfurled, set as the handles, and its scales were alternating chips of onyx and garnet. If Daenerys' black beast was the Black Dread reborn, then it was as if the Black Dread had taken the form of a sword as well.

The comely sandy-haired youth then came to the chest as well. He took out a blade that had an unearthly shine to it; almost like Dawn.

"I-Ice and f-fire are as di-diff-different from one another as d-d-day and n-night. Just as day must f-f-follow night, so fire and ice must ever follow one an-another. Ice must yield to fire, t-though oft in winter, even fire yields to snow. F-Find him Aeg-on. The one o-of ice a-and fire. The one who is promised"

He then smiled his last smile, and drew his last breath.

**Aegon**

He may not have known that man but he seemed to be a good person. But what was it that he rambled on about? Ice and fire? The one who is promised? He talked in riddles like a madman yet something about his voice sounded so clear.

His mind went back to the valyrian steel swords that had been gifted on to him by that man. He didn't know just who he was but Aegon felt a deep pang in his heart. He had rightfully gifted one of them to Alaric. Alaric's valyrian steel sword was amazing to gaze at. The shine it gave off an unearthly shine as the light hit the blade. Its edge was a dark as a waning moon, the blade itself was a magnificent blue colour almost akin to the summer skies.

Suddenly, he heard a loud deep roar. He then went to the terrace where he saw the comely-haired youth on top of a green dragon. It was faint but the sword by his side had the same glint to it as Truth.

"Ashara. Alaric. Arthur. I need you to go to Dorne; to Starfall. From there, head toward the Water Gardens. I can't remain hidden forever. I need to uphold to my duties and take the throne. I'm going to need Prince Doran's support."

"if you are going to go to Dorne, you might want to tell Doran that his fool son Quentyn is safe for now. And to keep a wary eye on Houses Yronwood and Fowler. That mummer's dragon said something about them rising to his cause" the Old Ser said to them.

Mummer's dragon? Did he mean that man on top of the dragon?

"I will do what you ask of me, King Aegon" Arthur said. Ashara gave him a small but firm nod. She then went to him, gently cupped his face and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "You have grown into a good man. And you will make a good king" she said. Alaric gave a brief look of protest but then nodded his head.

All of Westeros will know of his return soon. Aegon the Sixth of His Name. The Dragon Knight. I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. The blood of Old Valyria courses through my veins. And his blood felt boiling knowing that he will go back to Westeros and claiming his birth-right once and for all.

For I am the son of the sun

**Arya**

"It's been ages since I'd seen it. Yet, it still looks as I remember it!" Edrick cried out.

When she finally saw Starfall with her own eyes, Arya thought it could have come straight out of one of Nan's stories, with all its high golden colored spires and towers and whitewashed walls sparkling in the sun. It was settled at the heart of an island where the Torrentine rushed into the sea.

"What do you think?" Edrick asked of her with expectancy in his voice.

"It's beautiful! So summery and light."

_**We will be going to be seeing some back-and-forth between Westeros and Essos. **_

_**I know this was immensely crackpot but I do have my reasons for Gerris being a villain.**_  
_**First off, Gerris Drinkwater sounds like a fairly strange name. But Gerris' house Drinkwater does not have any sort of known history. But considering that its a knightly house, forget it right? But yet, even some knightly houses have some history. Look at the Cleganes; the first Clegane was a kennelmaster who received land and a tower-house after saving Tytos Lannister from a lioness with the aide of three dogs. Or House Seaworth, which was created after Davos had successfully smuggled foodstuffs to Storm's End around the Redwyne blockade. That's history.**_

_**Second of all; history. Look at the Yronwood's history. House Yronwood had always had a rivalry between House Martell; even before Oberyn killed Lord Edgar Yronwood. Quentyn had been sent to Yronwood in order to make amends. House Yronwood had sided the Blackfyres, and who is House "Drinkwater" sworn too? House Yronwood. **_

_**And look back on Quentyn's chapters. Gerris is easily able to get Quent and Arch with the Windblown. And he was the one to suggest that they go with them to get to Daenerys. Again, he is able to convince the Windblown to help Quentyn go with his plan to steal one of Dany's dragons. Quentyn also mentions that Gerris has two sisters, one of which gave him his first kiss. That's not a lot to go on but twins seem to run in the Targaryen/Blackfyre family. Daemon Blackfyre had two other daughters along with Calla Blackfyre who married her uncle Bittersteel. From their union, there could be Blackfyres from the female line. As it was mentioned that the male line was extinct.**_

_**Look back on Quaithe's warning to Daenerys as well. Each person that was coming were in pairs. Griffin and lion (Tyrion and Griff) up until they went separately of course. Black flame and kraken (Victarion and Moqorro) and are still headed their way. Lastly, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. The sun's son is obviously Quentyn, and the mummer's dragon appeared to be Aegon (until he leaves for Westeros). Or it could have been reversed. Quentyn's ploy with the dragons could have made him the mummer's dragon, and given Aegon's Martell blood, he could also be the sun's son. But there was mention that Gerris has been described as the "mummer" of the group.**_

_**Last of all: appearance and personality. Daemon II Blackfyre/John the Fiddler is described as a young man lean and lithe with a comely clean-shaven face and fine features. After revealing his lineage, Daemon removes the dye from his hair revealing its silver-gold color. Gerris is described as being tall, lean and comely with blue-green eyes and sandy hair. **_

_**Daemon was by all appearances a kind and humble man up until he revealed he framed Glendon Flowers for the theft of the dragon egg. Daemon was not granted the sword Blackfyre because Bittersteel did not deem him worthy of it. Gerris is described as having a swordsman's grace and a courtier's wit if not coming across as a bit arrogant and shallow. Barristan comments after Quentyn's botched proposal that if Gerris were the Prince of Dorne, Daenerys would have readily said yes, due to him being the comelier of the two.**_

_**So, there's my crackpot. Please continue to read and enjoy.**_


	33. Chapter 33

**Rhaenys**

_Please, some one. Any one. Save me. _

_Gerold, no, Jaehaerys. He insists on using that name. _

_But he is no true dragon_, she wants to shout out.

She firmly clutched her shoulder. It was only one of many hurts that Gerold - no, Jaehaerys - had come to inflict upon her. But the pain was beginning to subside. It was what had happened recently that scared her. She cannot do it. She cannot possibly give him what he wants.

She sent out the raven with extreme caution. Hoping, praying that some brave knight had found her message.

And in her prayers, the Gods had shown her strange things in her dreams.

Things that did not make sense. A dragon flying toward the sun only to be basked in the cold winds of winter. A red and black dragon encircling one another, their teeth bared at one another as wanting to feast upon one another. A tall gleaming pale sword in the clutch of a wolf the colour of the dornish sands.

And finally, a wolf whose fur was as pale as the moon or the silver hair of the Targaryen's with bright ruby-red eyes. And a three-eyed crow perched on its back. It then began to cry out something.

_Wake! Wake!_

**Jon**

Jon Snow considered himself fortunate enough to have seen many things in his lifetime, but there was little that could have prepared him to see for the first time a landscape covered in nothing but sand. He had turned to Arya on her horse in awe when they had first cast eyes on the desert landscape of Dorne, and he knew then that he wouldn't forget that moment for the rest of his days.

Dorne's beauty, however, as Jon soon learnt, came with a cost. The air was drier than anything he'd ever experienced, and Jon was extremely thankful when they reached the banks of the Torentine and were finally able to drink and bathe. He had removed as much clothing as he could while still looking presentable, but the fabrics he wore were simply the wrong kind for this type of weather, and he was sweating uncomfortably whilst on the back of his horse. The sun was unkind on his skin, too, and every part of him that was exposed was turning red like his hair.

He recalled Edrick's tale on how Ned Stark had come to Starfall to bring back the ancestral blade of the Daynes to the lovely Lady Ashara. He thought back to his father, and how he must have felt visiting this strange land for the first time. It was definitely not a place for a man of the North. He found himself thinking on just how he felt in tune in Dorne as much as he had in the North. _But I'm a Northman, born and raised_, he thought to himself. All of them had been greeted by Edrick's elder sister Cassella; who was rather fair-haired, resplendently violet eyed and angular-faced. Jon, Edrick and Arya spent much time exploring the rather pale-coloured castle. But after the young lord and his sister and Jon's sister had tired themselves out, he went on to a large tower that held itself close to the Torrentine. The castellan, Aerion Sand had explained that was the Palestone Sword; the tower in which the lovely maiden Ashara Dayne had thrown herself from.

Ashara Dayne. He had heard that name before. Jon had heard that the lady was beyond beautiful; rivaling the Maiden herself. And how she flung herself from the tower either because Eddard Stark had slain her noble brother, Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning. Or because of the child Lord Eddard Stark had taken from her. He only went to the small sept of Winterfell once. Wanting to see if Ashara Dayne was indeed his mother; to see that her beauty was beyond that of a goddess. If his father loved her, or if she loved him.  
That was the one thing that he would ask him. Everyday just after his nameday, he would ask about his mother. Lord Eddard Stark would look grim. He'd tell him "One day, when you are older, we will have a long talk about your mother, and I will answer all of your questions then. I promise" He never got that answer

The following day, the sun was high yet again above Starfall when Jon and Arya and Edrick and left their beds early in the morning to go out fishing with young Jynessa and Perros Blackmont. Edgar Allyrion later came by with young Gulian Qorgyle and Elys Fowler; old friends of Lord Edrick and Lady Cassella back when they were all nothing but bonny babes of five name days.

"You must absolutely see the Water Gardens - it's on a beach three leagues west. Prince Maron Martell raised it up for his Targaryen bride. All may enter; high and low born alike. " Elys Fowler said. Arya swears that he and Edrick could pass for twins, almost. Both of them had pale blond hair, but Elys' is more lighter nearly flaxen and his eyes a bit darker than Edrick's; almost resembling blooming lilacs.

One thing was most certain. He felt more freer in Dorne than he could ever have felt in the North. Could Daeron the Young Dragon have felt this way when he attempted to conquer this strange foreign land?

Later on in the day, after the bright desert sun had set, the Blackmont siblings, Arya, and Elys Fowler sat in one of the smaller halls of the castle, conversing after just having finished their supper.

"Jon? I'd like to talk to you about something" Edrick Dayne said coming up to him.

"Oh. Of course, what is it about?"

"When we were both still with the Brotherhood, I told you about Wylla"

"Yes. You said that she was your wetnurse. And mine as well apparently"

"Well, I think she might know something about you. I think its time you finally got some answers"

**Robard**

Margaery was beginning to swell heavily with child. She's glowing and she'll be a great mother. She's desperately hoping for a strong baby boy. Frankly, he wouldn't even mind if it was a girl.

But now, as much as he wants to attend to his wife, he must first need to attend to the realm. The Ironborn had finally done something and had gotten more bolder; sailing up the Mander river and reaving and raiding everything in sight in the Reach. They have already taken the Shield Islands, sacking Oldtown and close to taking the Arbor as well.

And right now, as much as the Reach has allied themselves with him, Robard knows that he needs the westerlands by his side as well. For that reason alone he had summoned his "cousin"; Tommen Lannister. The boy has grown quite much. One thing was becoming abundantly clear: Tommen was not his brother "Aerys the Third", no he was Tywin the Second. The posture he maintained as he sat next to Kevan Lannister, the now serious, brooding face and the coldness his eyes could emit. The boy was becoming more politically astute. Tommen's frame was broadening; the plump youthfulness near eliminated from his face, his blonde hair now wavier and longer and neatly framing his face.

"I mean no offense to Your Grace, but we have also received word that the Golden Company has stationed themselves by the Stepstones." Varys said.

"The Golden Company? Last I had heard from them, they had a contract with Myr. Their word is as good as gold. Why break it?"

"Right now, the Golden Company hath not done anything. We've heard nothing from our reports; they could be waiting for something or someone. But we also need to focus on the threat the ironborn present on the Reach."Willas said.

"Have your brother Garlan lead the vanguard as well as Ser Garth Greysteel, and instruct the Old Man of Oldtown to provide any necessary defenses and provisions." Robard uttered. "I shall see to it but we must bring as much food to King's Landing to prepare ourselves for winter. I have been consulting to the bankers of Myr in hopes of some coin, Your Grace. But I fear that we may have to raise the tax" Kevan Lannister, the new Master of Coin said. "It may be best to consult the magisters of Pentos as well on this matter. The realm is slowly easing into peace. We do anything drastic; we may end up throwing it back into chaos."

What are these fuckers planning?

**Jon**

Jon, Edrick and his trusted sworn shield and castellan Aerion Sand had easily made the journey to Wylla's home. As they rapidly approached the tiny house on the riverside, Edrick rode close to Jon's side, unable to tell what he was thinking from his stoic expression.

Ser Aerion dismounted the from his own horse after Edrick and Jon gotten off their stallions as well, and he took the latter by the hand, giving Edrick a wry smile. No words were exchanged between the three of them as Edrick tethered their horses on the post outside and knocked on the door.

"Wylla, it's me," he called out softly. "I've brought you some food and some guests to visit as well."

A small woman opened the door, gesturing for them to come inside. She seemed no older than Lady Catelyn, with a round face and kind eyes. She was not wearing the traditional Dornish silks but a brown, simple dress instead. Jon could not help but think she bore almost no resemblance to him, but he could have inherited mostly Stark traits.

Wylla bowed her head as Jon and Edrick walked past her. "Don't think I don't know who they are, Edrick," she scolded gently. "The last time you visited, you went on and on about being the greatest knight since your uncle. But I haven't the slightest clue why you would have brought them to see me in this shack of mine."

"We're very sorry to intrude on your home, Wylla," Jon spoke up politely. As he looked upon the other woman's face, he couldn't help but think about his father, wondering if it had really been her, wondering what it was about her that had made him stray. He was glad for Edrick's presence beside him, feeling comfortable with the newly anointed knight.

"I was speaking with Lord EdricK a few days ago at Starfall, and it seems you know of someone whom I hold very dear," he explained, "My father, the late Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell."

Wylla's face paled immediately at Jon's words, and she shook her head slightly. "Please, have a seat, kind sers," she offered quietly, to which Jon, Edrick and Aerion accepted her invitation. She too sat down, worrying her bottom lip before she spoke again. "I… I was saddened to hear of Lord Eddard's fate, and I am very sorry for your loss. But you should know that there are certain things I can't speak of, not because I don't wish to but because of promises I made to your father and other people in his life."

Jon didn't look best pleased by Wylla's cryptic words. "You would refuse to answer?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows, "We are speaking of events that happened so long ago, to people who are almost all dead as far as I can tell." Jon is the only person alive still suffering from the decisions made in the past.

"I'm sorry, Lord Edrick," Wylla answered almost immediately, looking embarrassed. "I am not… I feel as if I know things I shouldn't, but you're right. You of all people deserve to know the truth." She gave a heavy sigh before continuing and looking toward Jon. "You look so much like Lord Eddard the last time I saw him. Edrick might have told you or you might have heard from the servants that I am your mother, but that is not the case. I only nursed you when you were a mere babe and took care of you because your own mother was very weak."

"Oh," Jon said, blinking a few times at the woman before him. "But you knew him then when he was only young…you must have been one of the first people to see him," he pressed, refusing to give up, "Do you know who my mother was? Did you ever meet her?"

Wylla shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid I cannot give you such information, Ser Jon. Lord Eddard was vehement about keeping her identity a secret. But there is something that I can tell you that may rattle your world a bit, and you may be angry with me for not letting anyone know before. Your ... father ... he made me promise… I do not wish to disgrace his memory, but…" She trailed off, looking up at Edrick and Jon. "He was not Jon's father. There was no chance of it. Time gets confused in war and lies are easily spun when secrets are lost as people die, but he was a good man just trying to protect a woman's honor. That's all he would tell me."

**Arya**

Gods, damn it all. Jon and Edrick had gone off to find his mother apparently. She wanted to come to but they had left in the morn.

Suddenly, she saw two riders approaching. As the riders came closer, she realized she was among friends; for it was Beric Dondarrion. He had certainly looked better than before: his skin no longer as pale and sallow as it was back in the hollow hill. His cheeks were a little less hollow. But her attention was drawn to the young woman riding next to him.

She looked lovely and had dark hair, grey-violet eyes - the kind of purplish grey of a storm about to rumble and release lightning - and a rather long face. If Arya did not know any better, the woman looked like a female version of a mix of Jon and Edrick. Long, dark brown hair, pale skin, strong cheekbones, relatively clear complexion, and round eyes in an oval face.

"Who are you?" she asked her in a rather bold manner she had never heard from any other woman. But Edrick had told her that the people in Dorne were more free than anyone in the Seven Kingdoms. _I will never be free though_, she thought bitterly._ It's stupid that you can't do anything grand unless you're born with a cock. And I will have to marry for the best benefit for the North. _

"I am Arya Stark of Winterfell" she said plainly and offered a somewhat mocking curtsy. She expected her to reprimand her for mocking her or not doing a proper cursy. Instead, she giggled very loudly. "By the Old Gods and New, I think you're a worse version of me!"

"I am Lady Allyria Dayne of Starfall. Well, I guess I'm Lady Allyria Dondarrion now, aren't I?" Allyria Dayne. Edrick had mentioned her. Edrick said that she was the one who told him that his aunt Ashara and her father had loved one another. Edrick must've been lying. She will get her answers. But Allyria then turned her attentions to the people inside the castle.

"Jynessa? Perros? Is that you? I haven't seen you both since Edrick left to squire for my lord husband!" she shouted happily to the Blackmont heiress. Jynessa in turn proceeded to hug the Lady Dondarrion tightly that her face began to match the colour of her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Jynessa and Perros asked. "I could ask the same of you" Allyria cheekily said. Cassella then came out of nowhere and came crashing to her aunt, "ALLYRIA!", she cried out tightly clutching her neck. "Cassella!" Allyria cried out happily. "I had heard that Edrick had finally come back. I ... wanted to see him. Where is he?"

"He and Ser Jon had went off to visit someone. He wouldn't tell me who though. Just said that it was important." Cassella said. "But I did receive this letter recently. The maester told me to wait or summon you back to Starfall. It's addressed to you" Arya then took a good look of the sigil that was on the wax: two crossed swords with a white starbust on a black background.

"Where is Edrick right now?" Allyria asked. "He said that he needed to go with Ser Aerion and Ser Jon to a nearby place." Allyria looked directly to her niece, "Round up a small party of men. They'll be awaiting for Edrick and Aerion. He's one of our most valued and esteemed guardsman"

Allyria then turned to Beric. "Lord husband. Do you believe that my beloved nephew is ready of our house's honour?" The Lightning Lord gave his wife a curt nod.

"Lady Arya. Please, come with us" she asked, taking her hand like a doting mother would. She and Cassella then began to lead them to a chamber just below the castle. The chamber did not look like any ordinary castle chamber she had seen before. It looked like a chasm almost.

All around it were paintings of great knights. "These are all paintings of all past knights who ever held the title; Sword of the Morning. That over there is Samwell Dayne, whom the high and lowborn called Starfire, for his accomplishment of having sacked Oldtown. Over there is Joffrey Dayne who razed villages and fields around Oldtown in an effort to defy the dragon's dominion over Dorne. Right there is Ulrich Dayne; he was the first Sword of the Morning to join a the Kingsguard; King Daeron II. Right there is the most recent Sword of the Morning; the second Dayne to join the Kingsguard: my uncle Ser Arthur Dayne"

Looking at the portrait, she gazed into the intricate detail that was put into it. Arthur Dayne looked every bit of a true knight like in Sansa's songs. His hair a pale blonde; almost flaxen. Bright purple eyes. Edrick could be a younger version of him. Arya then looked at the center of the room; which had on display one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. A sword so bright that placing a candle next to it would barely make it radiate the luminous glow it emanated.

"Beautiful, isn't it? That's Dawn; the blade of House Dayne since the beginning of the Dawn Age. Only someone truly worthy is able to wield it. So, Lady Arya, do you believe that my nephew is worthy of it?" Allyria asked cheekily.

_How can I be worthy of it? _she thought.

**Ashara**

"Is that it? Mother? Uncle Arthur? Is that your home?" Alaric asked excitedly.

"Yes it is, my boy!" Arthur said. He hasn't smiled like that in a long time.

"It's your home too, Alaric" she tells him. It still looks the same as they are getting off the port. Home. I'm home

_**I wanted to post this earlier yesterday but personal affairs kicked in and I couldn't. Hope you like the chapter, please review and/or comment. **_


	34. REGARDS

_**Hi guys. **_

_**It's been a long time. I have been busy with schoolwork, and i finally graduated. YAY! And now I am currently seeking employment.**_

_**I know that a lot of people are expecting a chapter in the near-time future but truth of the matter is, I think I wanna give up on this fic. **_

_**I'm not saying or doing this for attention; I honestly have lost my train of thought when it came to the story. I had a lot of ideas as to where I wanted it to go, and now that I am online again, it just feels weird. The honest truth of it is, there is a lot of background that I wanted to lay the ground work on but didn't have the patience for. **_

_**I am honestly thinking of deleting it and probably going to focus my time and effort on my other fics; The Lost Prince and Amidst the Marshes and the Snow. **_

_**But I am thankful of the fact that this had gotten sol many followers and had been favorited.**_

_**Thank you all for the support.**_


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